A CoWrite, By Jas and Perr
by wordspank
Summary: From alternating POVs of Draco and Harry. It's Harry's 7th year at Hogwarts, and he still has yet to settle all kinds of issues with Draco. At least, initially, until Draco starts seeing him differently...
1. Draco: Heat and Mystery

A Co-Write, by  
Perr and Jas  
  
R, for language, for other things.  
HP/DM  
  
A/N: Seventh Year. Hehheh. Perr does Draco, Jas does Harry. We still have yet to understand its point. We'll see how this goes.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't make money out of it, but this is to only please ourselves. No copyright infringements are intended in any way.  
  
Draco's POV  
  
It's difficult.

It's difficult when I shift in leather pants, tight beneath my robes. I'm stupid, yes, to be doing such a thing. I've forgotten why it happened in the first place.  
  
The Sun is such a bloody bother. It fires through glass to touch my back when I'm eating, and it's even worse when everyone's making so much noise. I think it might make my hair whiter than it is already.

I poke at the leg of chicken on my plate. Gold, crisp skin, but I'm not hungry. I put my fork down with a clatter, and sip my water.

"You gonna eat that, Drake?" Goyle eyes carefully.  
  
"Have it," I replied, adjusting my cloak. Perspiration soaks my back and a unique signature scent that is Draco makes myself twitch; I myself think even _that _is attractive. After all, I'm the man of the house under Severus Snape.

I don't know what I'm still doing here. The pants cling to my thighs and my shirt to my back like a second skin. This is ridiculous. Dumbledore probably has air-conditioning in his office. I look around, noticing that there's nothing in the air. I have an urge to play a little truant.

But as I'm about to get up, an owl flies in our way, particularly quickly in my row. It's a little wrapped parcel, and automatically, my hands extend when it falls from above. Like it's from heaven, I think to myself. I can't help but smile at me being the only one receiving something. I tug at the string binding brown paper, as my minions look on earnestly. Hmm. It's a mirror, tied to a tiny bunch of pansies. There's a note.  
  
_ 'Our history has been bittersweet; alas, you and I have scores yet to settle until we graduate. Until our paths cross again, Draco,'  
_  
No sign off. I shove everything into my cloak pockets. "Another admirer," I announce quietly. But I couldn't quite understand the point of a mirror. A mirror?

Hmm. Oh well.


	2. Harry: TwoWay

A Co-Write, by  
  
Perr and Jas  
  
Harry's POV  
  
I wake up too early for school. It is still dark outside; the boys are asleep. Ron's turning in bed, muttering something. _Must be dreaming about Quidditch again. _It is snowing in Dean Thomas's West Ham poster because Seamus was tampering with it.

I think about the day's time-table. Double Transfiguration with Slytherin. I have not been practicing those vanishing spells. Then there would be Draco Malfoy who would occasionally turn to me and smirk, probably thinking of another prank to play on me. I don't know what's up with that boy. There's just something about him that is so... interesting.

Something in me wishes that Malfoy would quit playing childish pranks, especially on me. _Like he would anyway. _Considering the fact that we have been enemies for seven years. Maybe I should initiate a truce. Wait, am I trying to befriend him? _Not exactly_, said a small voice inside my head. I decide to go along with the idea of a truce, and I find my quill and a small piece of parchment.

So what do exactly do I write? Maybe I should just keep it short. I scribble a few lines, and look up. I see a wrapped package at the edge of my open trunk – the two-way mirror I just bought. I remember Sirius giving me one before he died.

_ This is a two-way mirror; I've got the other one of the pair. If you  
need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my  
mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used them when  
we were in separate detentions._

Initially, I had intended to pass one to Ron, but perhaps this could help me in a way now.  
I wrap the small, square mirror with brown paper. Ron stirs. "Why are you up so early?" he says. "Couldn't sleep. Listen, Ron, I'm heading to the Owlery for a while, meet you guys at breakfast?"


	3. Draco: Tarot Issues

by Perr

Perr hopes this is good enough.

Draco's POV  
  
It's been forty-seven minutes of Trelawney. Her wild hair and thick, fingerprint-lined glasses offer me no pleasant sight. Although, she really is some sort of a freak..._ "My dear," her hollow voice had sounded out through a thick throat, "your cards speak of strange, curious truths." Slytherins had Divinations, and I remember a keen interest in the pit of my stomach of Tarot Cards. Initially._

_ "What?" It had come out a little too unsure and timid. I hate that portrayal. Malfoys are nothing like that. I stared at the large cards on the table. "What do they say?"_

_ "Was this the first you drew?" Her short-nailed finger had tapped on a card. I didn't answer. "The Fool," she had said, eliciting some snickers from around. I narrowed my eyes. It was an image of a man on the edge of a cliff with his arms thrown open, the sun shining behind him and what seemed to be a knapsack tied to the end of a long pole. He looked jolly, holding it on his shoulder, tucked under his elbow._

_ "The Fool," she repeated, "fresh, open, spontaneous. Embracing whatever comes your way." Trelawney's eyes narrowed on the second card. "The Lovers."_

_ I wasn't pleased, but even Crabbe gave it a 'hmm' look__."The Fool, then---"_

_ "Gods, woman, get to the point," I sneered vehemently. _

_ "Mr. Malfoy, see yourself entering a stage when you will experience powerful... urges." I shifted in my seat. "You seem to yearn for a relationship, if not now, later. And the card tells me of the decisions you need to make. You eventually will have to stand up for your own beliefs."  
  
"What absolute nonsense," I frowned, hating to be the cause of interested grins. The third card was a nude woman pouring water. The bottom of it read, 'The Star'._

_"The Fool suffuses with a serene calm," the Professor proclaimed. "Leaving a beacon of hope and inspiration." I was ready to leave. "But wait, you've got a Knight, an Ace of Cups, and an Ace of Pentacles, to do with immaturity, intimacy, love, trust, security and groundedness."  
  
"Interesting," Crabbe said. I smacked him. "What?"_

_ The Professor turned and walked away. "For your namesake, I shan't elaborate." Groans filled the room.  
  
_

And now, I can't believe that I had taken the piss from that freak. I'll never touch those cards again.

Strangely, I'm reminded of my mirror from the parcel I that had gotten this morning. Out of my pocket, I look into the mirror. The flowers are still tied to its corner and other than that, all I see is myself, my handsome face. Blonde-white locks, attractive quirk of lips. But oddly, it feels strange in my hands, like a lingering presence looming over me. I keep it in a safe place again.

Thankfully, class ends sooner than I think.

I get out quite quickly, and leave everyone behind. I hope no one can see the colour in my face. Turning up for transfigurations early might earn the house a few extra points anyway.

At the corner of my eye, I see red, chocolate and ebony heads, taking strolls down the corridor. I turn my head fully and my face is already plastering a smile.

"My, my, if it isn't Potter," I almost spit, voice coming out deep and precise.

"Aren't you ever tired of chiding us, Malfoy?" Granger defends.

"Stand down, Mudblood, no one's talking to your short little frame." Weasel looks to someone behind me –-big-sized Goyle, I sense-- and he says nothing.

Potter has a different, deep-set tone in his voice that, for a millisecond, I am taken aback by. "What do you want?"

"Nothing much," I reply, folding my arms. I'm slightly taller than him, which gives me some kind of upper hand. "Just measuring up our next duel."  
  
"Give it up, Malfoy, you've lost plenty of times," Granger says. "Ignore him, Harry." She tugs on his cloak sleeve as a gesture for their intended departure.

The star Gryffindor seeker chooses to ignore _her _instead. He steps up to my face, and snaps, "Bring it on, then."

Immediately, my hands fly forward to shove him back. "Harry!" The mudblood exclaims, and with the help of Weasel, catches him and pulls him back, away from me. There's a glint in his eyes that's half-angry, half-nothing-I've- seen-before. He huffs, and then the three walk away. "I don't know what the bloody hell you were thinking, Harry," I hear the redhead say. Then they're completely gone.

"Hmm." I shake my head and bask in a moment of respite. Potter was standing a bit too close for my comfort. I'll only admit this much though: His rare- seen attitude triggered something quite excitable in me.

Still hate his half-blood guts, though.

I feel heat in my pocket and pull out the mirror again. It's got a blood red streak running from the top to quarter-way, very much on the left, small, and definitely, tainting my mirror. Nevermind. I'll just keep it for another few days.

I sigh.

All this heat, the weather, _the Potter, _and the tension just makes me want to scream.


	4. Harry: Delivery

by Jas

Harry's POV  
  
The portrait of the Fat Lady swings open, and I step out of the Gryffindor Common Room. I make my way through a few corridors, the other portraits are still sleeping; up some flight of stairs; more corridors, and I step on something, which hisses at me. _Mrs. Norris. _Bloody cat. I hear Filch's voice round the corner and I suppress my urge to kick her. I have no time to run.  
"What's this?" the caretaker says menacingly. "Where are you going at this time?"  
"To the Owlery." I say coolly. He eyes me suspiciously. Surprisingly, he buys my story and heads off, muttering under his breath. Just narrowly escaping detention, I walk more carefully now, listening for foot-steps. I can't risk running into any Professors, especially Snape.  
When I get to the top of the tower, I search for Hedwig. I find the bird at a corner, feeding on a dead frog. She gives a hoot and flies towards me and start pecking my ear. "Hi Hedwig, I see you've got you're talons full." She hoots again. "I need you to deliver this for me." Happily, she stretches out her leg, and then I realize that I can't use Hedwig, it would be too obvious. I tell her I changed my mind, and she replies in a different tone, obviously not very happy with me. So now I decide to use a barn owl, and to deliver the parcel to Malfoy at breakfast time.  
  
Over breakfast, Hermione is lecturing us about being serious with our work, since it's the NEWTs year, and talking about the homework Professor Flitwick gave us. I am not very interested, but if she's going to give us some hints, I will be willing to listen. Turns out she has already written three rolls of parchment, and I have yet to start. I look pass Hermione and scan the Slytherin table. There he is, with the same look on his face; an air or superiority around him. He looks up. I quickly turn away, and rejoin Ron and Hermione's discussion. "Are you ok, Harry?" "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" "Oh, I thought you were running a temperature. Your face looks flushed."  
I try to distract myself with the food on my plate, but it doesn't work. Ron pulls out our timetable and surveys it. "Herbalogy's up first," he says. Then I remember. Where is that owl? As if on cue, the brown, speckled bird swoops into the hall, just as Malfoy is leaving the table. He looks pretty happy to receive something. He reads the little note, and opens the package. He examines the mirror, and then pockets it. I, myself, fell satisfied with this. _What the hell is wrong with me?_  
  
After a rather productive lesson of Herbalogy, Hermione, Ron and I are walking up the stone steps, to go back into the castle. Along one of the corridors, we meet the Slytherins, coming out from Divination.  
Immediately, we see that unmistakable smirk. Malfoy. Pretending like I didn't send him anything, I ask him what he wanted. He says something about a 'next duel.' I step up to him, _bring it on, then_. I can tell that he is uncomfortable. _After all, he's just a coward who needs back-up to act tough. _He pushes me back, and for some unknown reason, my heart gives a jolt. Before I can react, Hermione and Ron pull me away, avoiding a possible fight, which we could have ended up in detention for.  
As we walk away, Ron was cursing Malfoy. "That bloody git... What were you thinking?!" I didn't answer him.  
I wonder if he knows it's a two-way mirror.


	5. Draco: Letter

A Co-Write  
  
By Perr. Perr thanks those who have taken the time to read and review. :)

Draco's POV  
  
"The point of turning this into---"  
  
The lesson's as bland as Hagrid's poetic skills, and it's not even remotely funny that McGonagall's face is still mistakable for a prune. She looks better as a cat.  
My eyes constantly dart to the side, to just keep a close watch on arch-rival Harry Potter. He's paying so much attention, I don't get why he can't even get anywhere close to my scores. I give myself a mental shrug. Guess he isn't quite as capable as I am.  
Ooh, but I'm just itching, y'know? Just bloody waiting to say something sarcastic, something that'll hit him in the heart. For so many years, I think I've probably squeezed myself out of every last drop of insult I potentially had. Stupid twit. I run my fingers through my smooth hair and pick up my quill. Crabbe had better not be looking.

_Potter.  
__I've been thinking about yesterday, when you were in your hideous round glasses and your uncombed hair.  
I don't know whatever the hell is wrong with you, but you'd better not be thinking of doing anything idiotic, anything that'd affect me. You know you've caused more trouble to me than you would've ever imagined, although, I'd truly doubt you and your groupies would be able to keep your feet out of a hot cauldron.  
Don't mess with me, half-blood.  
_I paused. Well, that should be good enough.  
  
_ Yours truly.  
Love, Malfoy._  
  
What the fuck?  
  
Bloody hell, I must be a little bit off my trolley. I black out the 'truly' and the 'love', desperately trying to make it absolutely unnoticeable. I don't think he would have any brains to try and look at what I cancelled out anyway.  
  
_Yours .  
Malfoy.  
_  
Much better.  
I wait for the Professor's back to be turned, before I throw it hard at Potter's head. Expecto Patronum _that_, goody-two-shoes.  
He glances over his shoulder and I pass him my best smile. _That's right, Harry, watch out. _As soon as McGonagall turns around, I cock my head to one side and become an amazing actor by looking as if I've paid attention to every little curl and furl of word she's said behind her sagged cheeks and droopy eyes. I take back what I said about her earlier; she's better off as a dog.

It's way out dark, and I'm stretched out quite comfortably on the Slytherin Common Room couch. Everyone's in their rooms, but I guess that's their business. I can't really get any sleep.  
That Gryffindor hasn't made eye contact with me all day, which I find to be good. I've got authority over him then. Looks like I won't have to look at his face for a long time. Something feels absolutely warm on my back, and I dig beneath to find my mirror, the one I was given that morning. Strange. I thought I left it in my cloak.  
The red streak is gone completely, and I feel better about myself. It's not bad a mirror really, maybe it's the kind that compliments the way you look.  
"At least I look way better than Harry Potter," I say out loud, arching a brow at myself, holding out the mirror.  
Suddenly, the mirror begins to mist, and I notice something faint coming to the surface. Is that... Is that a face? It looks terribly familiar...  
It's Potter himself.  
I yell and let it fall to the floor, as I scramble over the couch and hide. Okay, I didn't hide. It's more like sheltering myself from potential dangers.  
Blaise appears, and he looks startled. He spots me peering over the couch, and frowns.  
"What in the magical universe are you screaming about?"  
"I didn't scream, you idiot. It's the fucking mirror."  
"What mirror?" He scoots over and turns over the cushions, then searches the floor. "This?" He inspects it first, then holds it out to me. "Well, it's got nothing in it. Draco, if you're so damn afraid of cockroaches, just admit it."  
"It was not a cockroach! It was the mirror, and I saw---"I stop. If I'd told Blaise about seeing Potter in it, he'd report me to the sick bay immediately and start some rumors. "I'm not afraid of cockroaches."  
"Sure," he dismisses completely, and gives it back to me. "Though, it's pretty weird that you keep a blue-tinted mirror."  
He walks away and I stare at it. First a bit of crimson, now completely in a tone of ocean. Gods, this is really, really all that stupid half-blood's fault, isn't it? I'm not going to think about it. I'm not going to think about anything to do with it.  
I put out the fire in the hearth with a short incantation and a flick of the wand, and then retreat to my dorm room. I stuff the mirror under my pillow.  
I'm very, very tired. My sweatpants are comfy in the cool of the night, and I feel the exhaustion flip-flop my brain matter. But as soon as I lie down, I find myself staring up at the ceiling with a blank mind, just recalling nothing but the events of today.  
_Potter. Potter. Potter. Potter.  
potterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotter.  
_  
This was going to be a very long night. 


	6. Harry: Mirror

by Jas

Harry's POV  
  
I regret not revising those vanishing spells. McGonagall wants us to vanish the snails on our table. I glance around the class. Goyle sends his snail flying up in the air instead. _Well, looks like Hermione's the only one who revised. Big surprise._  
I can't concentrate. Quidditch season is starting in a few days, and the first game is Gryffindor v Slytherin. Potter v Malfoy, in other words. How convenient.  
Someone just threw a ball of paper at my head and it interrupts my thoughts. Speak of the devil. I pick up the note, and glare at Malfoy. Very surprisingly, he smiles! _What the bloody hell. _Ron is now looking at me. Can tell he's surprised too.  
I read through the note, twice. _Scared, is he? Although, I never knew I caused him trouble..._ He can't even sign off properly, without canceling, umm... something. _What's there to smile about, anyway? _I pass the note to Ron, making sure Hermione doesn't see it. Knowing her, she'll probably confiscate it.  
  
After dinner, Ron, Hermione and I head straight back to the Common Room to clear that whole load of homework. I'm thinking about the coming Quidditch match and I don't realize how many mistakes I'm making in my essay. Ron is falling asleep where he is sitting. And as usual, Hermione is checking our work, helping us with most of it too. She isn't very satisfied with our attitude. Then she and Ron start bickering, _again_. Seriously, those two...  
Hermione storms off to the Girl's Dormitory. Ron too, leaves for the Boy's Dormitory. I sit in front of the fireplace, which reminds me of Sirius and how we used it as a channel to talk through, two years ago. Then, I think of the two- way mirror and Malfoy. I have just come to realize that I have not seen him the whole day, after Transfiguration. _Hah, bet he's avoiding me. I can use the mirror to find out, though._ But feeling drained, I decide to turn in.  
The others have gone to sleep already, and the Dormitory is in darkness. "Lumos," I whisper. I walk over to my bed when I realize that the mirror on my trunk is glowing. I pick it up and make my way to the staircase.  
_Malfoy?_  
There is a faint image on the surface.  
_Definitely Malfoy._  
I can make out his pointed face and white-blond hair.  
_Don't tell me he found out?_  
I start to freak out. Then I hear a yell, and something has probably happened to him, because the image disappears.  
_Maybe not. _


	7. Harry: Snitch Itch

by Jas  
  
Perr would like to thank a rather enthusiastic HoneySky for reviewing. We really appreciate the praise! :)

Harry's POV  
  
Nothing much happened, the past few days. Not since the night Malfoy appeared in my mirror. It's the morning of the Gryffindor v Slytherin match, and I'm feeling a little pre-game-anxiety.  
As I walk to the Great Hall, people keep wishing me 'good luck.' _Not that I believe in luck._  
Halfway through breakfast, I catch yet another Malfoy-smirk from the Slytherin table.  
The rest of the school pours out onto the pitch. I collect my broom and stroll to the dressing room. Ginny runs past me, wishing me well. From behind comes a drawl, "Yeah, you're gonna need the luck, _Potter_." No surprise. It's Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. "Better watch out yourself, Draco." I dash into the Gryffindor changing room before anything happens.

  
  
As we step onto the pitch, Madam Hooch is already waiting. Both captains shake hands. "Mount your brooms..." Madam Hooch blows the whistle and the players shoot up in the sky.  
I circle above the rest looking out for the Golden Snitch. Malfoy is doing the same. I have this urge to get back at him.  
After only 10 minutes into the game, I see the Snitch. It is around one of the Slytherin goal posts. I decide not to make a dive for it, because Malfoy might notice too. So I direct my broomstick towards the goal post and pretend to be looking for the Snitch... Got it. ...Hey! No one seems to notice that I have caught the Snitch! _Maybe... Maybe I can trick Malfoy with a Wronski Feint now._  
With the Snitch in one hand, I speed towards the ground. Malfoy follows suit, gathering speed.  
  
In the background, commentator Lee Jordan says, "Seems like the Snitch has been spotted. The two Seekers are chasing after it. C'mon Harry!"  
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall snaps.  
"Oops, sorry Professor."  
  
_Malfoy is falling for it, hook, line and sinker, _no pun intended. Just as we are about to smash into the ground, I pull up the broom handle, and steady myself.  
CRASH. Malfoy and his broomstick roll on the ground. He looks like a rag doll. Then a shriek from the Slytherin stands. _Probably Pansy Parkinson.__  
_It was only then that Madam Hooch realizes I already have the Snitch. She blows the whistle to signal the end of the match.  
_What the hell am I doing? _I jump off my broom and bend over Malfoy, whose nose is bleeding profusely; arm broken. It is amazing he's still conscious. _"Are you alright?!" _I am shocked at the tone of my voice. Malfoy mutters something. I can't hear it, but I'm sure he's cursing me. I feel horrible. Suddenly winning this match doesn't seem all that important anymore.  
Madam Hooch rushes over with her wand out, "Ferula!" Malfoy's broken arm is now held in a sling. She brings him to the Hospital Wing. I don't know why I want to follow them, but I am surrounded by the other Gryffindors anyway, all celebrating a victory over Slytherin.


	8. Draco: Quidditch Bitch

by Perr  
  
Draco's POV  
  
Who does he think he is, coming over here, trying to show some sympathy. I'd spit on it if I could actually spit that far.  
"Don't think that this'll change my views on you." I skip addressing him; it's way too tiring to keep calling his name. "Neither will it affect me in the game later, if you're going to try."  
He doesn't say a word.  
And then, I realise, my feet are cold as I'm sitting up on the bed. He takes the blanket and pulls it down over them, then makes his way around to my right, where I scoot back and move away as much as I can. He doesn't have his wand, he doesn't look like he's reaching for anything except my face, and then  
he runs his hands through my hair and places a kiss on my forehead  
before I reach up and pull him down on me to let his lips meet mine in a passionate fury.  
  
That's when my eyes wrench themselves open.  
"Oh my bloody fucking wizard idols!" I breathe. I did not just think that. I did not just see that in my brain. I did not just witness my subconscious self touching him the way that I did, and I scramble out of bed to find my wand. _Anything, anything but that, anything to drive away all those horrible, horrible things._ A wave of heat washes over my entire form, and I wipe the sweat off my forehead. I've been thinking too much.  
Montague enters the empty dorm room. "What are you still doing here? We're halfway through breakfast!"  
"You are?" My head turns and the Sun sears into my retinas. "Yeah. I'll be out."  
"Y'know, I didn't come all the way down to just to see my team members all shabby and unprepared. Hurry up and get out."  
"Okay! Jesus, I'll be right out," I snap in response.  
  
  
  
It was supposed to be simple.  
I saw Potter, made some snarky comments, and he disappeared. During that entire time, over breakfast, over walking, over changing, I couldn't stop thinking. _Stop thinking. **Stop thinking.**_  
"You look a little dazed."  
Goyle looks to me with slight concern. "I was just thinking." _Stop thinking, then._ "...The game against Gryffindor. We haven't won the cup in a long time, and they haven't lost in a long time either."  
"Ay, we'll beat 'em down good," he says, grabbing his broom with a strong arm.  
On the way out, I see Pansy. _Pfft, what a name._ She waves and I smile, but roll my eyes as soon as I pass her. Don't know why it's such a big deal that I took her to the Yule ball.  
  
The Sun is even hotter outside when I step onto the pitch. Blood is boiling, eyes are shifting and _(oh, there's something wrong with me) _the first person I look out for is the man of my dreams. _Did I just think that?_  
Yeah, he's there, he's staring so hard I feel a burn in my chest. I still don't understand. I still don't get how he looks so fucking fantastic in his red-yellow robes, his cheek pressed to broom.  
The wind builds up; not a good thing during my game. And it blows at him, robe fluttering behind him to flash his boots, from ankle to calf, knee to thigh, to  
_Oh my---_  
**STOP BLOODY THINKING!**  
I arch a brow at him (as well as myself) and get into position. Madam Hooch gives a start, then a signal, and we're off into the clouds.  
I don't see that mechanical toy anywhere, and I'm just settling in one spot, avoiding bypassing chasers and beaters to look for it. Hmm. Potter seems to be awfully suspicious, flying himself all over the place especially near my team's goal. I give chase.  
He shoots downwards, hand outstretched, and all I've got to do is to go a little faster, knock him out of the way, and win. That easy. I'm left with staring at his back, how it arches to touch the snitch, how his terrible dark brown-black hair blows in the wind, why the hell I'm thinking about this kind of shit now, why---  
  
**OW.  
**  
I'm contorted in all sorts of ways, that fucking familiar pain riding up my arm. The impact of ground is no comfort at all. It's as discomforting as the instant realisation that I've lost it for Slytherin again. There's blood at the tips of my fringe, that I taste in my mouth (I hope I don't lose any teeth), that I breathe into my lungs. My legs are fine, but I can't move any further than a centimetre, pain just shooting everywhere like bullets from a Muggle's gun. I give the hardest groan I can heave, so maybe people will be able to actually realise that I could die on the spot.  
"Fucking Potter..." I cough.  
"Ferula," are the words that I hear, before spirals, swarms and waves of violets and yellows cloud my vision.  
Crabbe's and Goyle's voices are faint, little murmurs behind cheers for Gryffindor, and I'm being carried in someone's arms.  
At least I'm out of the Sun now.


	9. Draco: Epiphany, Maybe

by Perr. Yes, I do the Draco POV and Jas Harry's POV. Occasionally, we do everything together. I'll just be indicating who does which ones. Also, because schooling term opens on Monday, we may have to change our deadline to a chapter every five days. Until then, enjoy everything that's coming up! :) Thanks for the reviews, guys.  
  
Draco's POV  
  
It's quiet all around, I think I was unconscious for a while. There's nobody beside me, except for a beetle and it's pathetic legs, crawling on the bed's metal sides.  
It smells so distinctly of hospital, and my arm feels itchy in a cast. It's so much like the time where that bird in Hagrid's class took a clean swipe at me, except, slightly more painful.  
I hate staying in this wing. It's awful lonely.  
_Ouch, _I feel as I scrunge up my nose. That's broken too, isn't it? All because of my wandering mind, all because of that boy, that treacherous little monkey who caused me misery since he stepped in here. Put my father in Prison, indirectly making my mother absolutely bonkers, making me so... so... angry at him. If I can't beat him in Quidditch, I can with the books.  
And speak of the devil, he comes in, still in his robes, a cut on his lip and a scratch on his cheek. He stands on the end of the bed, fingers tracing gods-know-what patterns on the wood. "What happened?" I ask.  
He just says, "I'm sorry."  
"Sorry?" I frown. It hurts, but pain is nothing when I'm making myself look good in front of Potter. "You're sorry?"  
I can see his jaw muscles clench, and I have another go. But differently. "Fine. But don't think that this'll change my views about you." His sympathy, if it's even real at all, is so unnerving.  
My feet are cold. My toes wiggle.  
  
_**Waitagoddamnminute.  
  
Is this Déjà vu?  
  
**_ My breathing suddenly hitches at my memory. Cold feet. His sympathy. My words. Something rides up my spine and causes my joints to stiffen, my broken bones to fragment even further.  
His hands, from tracing, grasp the end of the blanket gently, and then fold them over my feet, covering my soles completely. This cannot be happening! I scream in my head. There's a very, very agonising pause between him and I, and something in the pit of my stomach warms up when takes  
_one step to his left  
two steps  
three steps_  
and then he walks away.  
  
I don't know what's the matter with me. If I've learnt to decipher my feelings correctly, that would be something along the lines of _disappointment _that's gnawing at my insides. Like a gust of soft summer breeze, he's disappeared.  
Goyle steps in minutes after, and I feel slightly better with his company. After all, if I can't appreciate his company, who else can I trust myself with? We've got so much in common, family-wise, blood-wise, enemy- wise.   
Unlike he and I.  
But ever since he's left the room, something inside's gone along with him as well. And I don't ever want to think about it again. 


	10. Harry: Visiting Hours

by Jas  
Harry's POV  
  
Everyone's celebrating in the Common Room. Tons of food and butterbeer in here. Sadly, I have no appetite to eat. I leave for the Boys' Dormitory. I'm in no mood to celebrate.  
I sit on my bed and bury my face in my hands. I'm trying to think. Ron comes up, he must have seen me.  
"Hey Harry, what are you doing up here?"  
"Nothing... I just... just wanted to be alone."  
He looks at me straight in the eye. I have a feeling he knows I'm hiding something. "Alright, c'mon, you can tell me."  
_Damned.  
_I sigh. "OK. Promise you won't tell anyone?" He nods. I draw a deep breath. "I... feel bad about...you know, Malfoy." I anticipate the worst.  
Instead, Ron gives me this weird look, and bursts out laughing. "What?!" I demand.  
"Harry...you're such a joker!" He says in between guffaws.  
"I'm not joking!"  
"You're drunk, aren't you?! You pulled a bloody fantastic Wronski Feint on that git, and you caught the Snitch! What's there to--"  
"Ron, I am most certainly _not drunk. _Look, this is not funny. Even though I will not be punished for what I did--"  
He pushes me onto my bed. "Go to sleep, you. Seriously, you expect me to buy that?" He shakes his head, and leaves the Dormitory.  
I sit up again, my head is throbbing. I wonder how he is now. I find my mirror under my pillow, "Draco Malfoy." Nothing. Well, I guess he doesn't have it with him now. He wouldn't need it for the match anyway. _Maybe I should go to the Hospital Wing then... Are there visiting hours? ... Who cares!  
_I wear the Invisibility Cloak and use Marauder's Map. _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.  
_I manage to get out of the Common Room, unnoticed. It is only evening and it is already quite dark in here. But I can still make out the things in the Map, so that's good. No one's in my way at this point.

I am almost there. Just two flights of steps to go. I hope I don't run into Peeves. I decide to take off the Cloak, and tap the Map "Mischief managed." _Well, I'm not really doing any mischief.  
_Someone grabs me from behind, and I am shoved against the wall. There could only be one... or two. _Crabbe and Goyle.  
_"Where're you going?" Goyle is pinning me down by my collarbone, and it hurts.  
"That's none of your businesses."  
"You... You're going to curse Draco or something, aren't you?"  
"I am _not. _Now let me--" I am slammed against the wall again.  
Crabbe draws back his massive arms; fist tight. I turn my head before the punch could be delivered.  
I can taste blood on my lips. _Scumbag. _My cheek feels swollen too.  
Crabbe is at it again. This is like being Dudley's punching bag.  
I can hear the sound of distant footsteps; coming up the stairs. Crabbe and Goyle must have heard it too. They let me go. I pull on the Cloak just as Madam Pomfrey appears.  
"What are you boys doing here? Your friend needs rest. Go on, you don't need to get all worried. He'll be alright."  
_"I'm not falling for that 'He is ok' trick," _I almost say aloud. I sneak away before those two big oafs realize I'm missing. _Thank God for the Invisibility Cloak. _I head to the wards.   
  
Before I enter the room, I make sure Madam Pomfrey isn't around. I see the list of visiting hours posted on the door_. 7pm is fine. She can't force me to leave.  
_I go inside, and there's no one else except Malfoy. _Must be lonely. _I walk towards him, feeling bloody nervous. He sits up, "What happened?"  
_What happened, what? _I am lost. _Oh! _I guess I was too tense that I had forgotten about my busted lip. _No, I won't tell him. No, I don't need his sympathy.  
_I apologize. This is probably the last thing he'll expect, so no surprise that he is somewhat stunned. And for once, I will not talk back. I'm just glad he's well enough to at least scoff at me.  
I look away from his face, and I see that his feet are exposed. There is a long silence. I pull the soft cotton bedspread over them... _What did I do? _My brain can't keep up with my actions. I feel rather... I don't know, shy? _What is he gonna think? I _have_ to leave the room.  
  
_I wear the Cloak again as I step out. The 5 minutes in there seemed more like 30. Goyle is walking towards me. _No, wait, he's going inside. _So I let him pass. I don't see Crabbe. Perhaps he's still looking for me. 


	11. Harry: Afterthought

by Jas  
  
Harry's POV  
  
I return to the Gryffindor Tower. All I can think of is Malfoy, Malfoy and more Malfoy. _Why? _It's not like it's the first time I've landed him in hospital. _It's different now, _says the annoying, small voice in my head. What could possibly be so different?  
I find myself back in front of the Fat Lady. Now how am I going to get in without being seen...? No one knows I've gone out, and the portrait cannot open by itself. Hmm... Guess I'll just have to slip in, hopefully no one spots me.  
No one _does _notice, because the Common Room is still packed.  
I wash up, the water stings my lip. Well, at least it's no longer bleeding. I go up to the Boy's Dormitory, and flop onto my bed. I fall asleep almost immediately.  
  
_A Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. The whole school is watching the game. It starts to rain. Then suddenly, Lee Jordan announces that Slytherin had won. The Slytherin stand erupts into cheers. I am glad. Everyone returns to the castle. Ron and Hermione follow the rest of the Gryffindors to the Great Hall. I tell them I am going to the library. But I end up walking to the Slytherin changing room. It is empty except for Malfoy; he is still in his Quidditch Robes and his back is facing the entrance. His hair is damp; he looks incredibly attractive. He says, "Hey Crabbe, give me a minute." _No answer. _He spins around. "What are you doing here?" I continue to walk towards him. It happens so quickly and I don't realize that my hands are pressed against the lockers, with Malfoy in the middle. There is a long silence. My face moves closer, and closer...and then he disappears.  
What? Was I about to...?  
_  
_Nonononono. _This is wrong, this is wrong, this is... Ron?  
Ron is standing at the side of my bed. "Sorry, you were having a nightmare or something."  
"Oh... yeah, I was." _I did not just dream of that; _still unsure.  
"C'mon, let's go for breakfast. Hermione's already waiting."  
  
  
  
Throughout the day, I didn't see Malfoy at all. And throughout the day, I was again, thinking about him. Perhaps he's still in the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey won't let him out for classes, even though she's probably already fixed his bones. Everyone knew how fussy Madam Pomfrey was.  
I swear I'll soon have a fever from worrying about that boy the whole day. Maybe I already have one. This is all too ridiculous.


	12. Draco: All Is Well, I Think

> > By Perr - There may be delays in updates nowadays because Perr's computer has been possessed by an anti-internet demon. Sorry! Perr will try to update as soon as possible.  
  
Draco's POV  
  
"Alright... You can go. But don't strain yourself, it'll take two days to heal completely."  
Well, it's about bloody time I was released.  
The first thing I think of stepping out the door is what people are going to write on my brilliant blue cast. Messages of admiration, get-well- soons and pick-me-ups, to say the least. At least it's only my left forearm that's broken, otherwise I'd have a lot of problems.  
It's terribly cold outside, maybe because I'm dressed in a 49ners sweatshirt and matching grey sweatpants, well-worn and a little thin for weather like this. Hey, being in Hogwarts does not limit my choice of casual wear or my interest in Muggle sport.  
I'm feeling awfully tired, walking all the way from the hospital wing to the Slytherin common room. Everyone greets me like they should when I enter, but it's the usual; girls filing their nails, gossiping and whatnot, boys draping themselves all over the furniture trying to ignore the inconsiderate cheers of Gryffindors across the shifting stairs.  
"What noise," I comment, crossing male bodies, throwing a red ball at each other from floor to couch.  
"Draco, you're alright!"  
As whichever girl approaches me, I immediately snap, "I'm in no mood to chat now, I'd rather be left alone."  
And like a little dog, she moves away.  
In the dorm room, there's only empty beds and tossed pillows. The air smells strangely musty, everything to do with sweat. I climb onto my bed, and that mirror is gleaming in the artificial light of the room. My pillow is missing.  
The surface is pink, like cherry blossoms fresh off the tree. Like how I'm turning when I'm being reminded of everything I've been thinking about, the cause of my injury, the culprit of the kind of dreams I've been having. Trelawny's voice echoes in my mind,  
_ See yourself entering a stage when you will experience powerful... urges...  
_ Screwed up urges, they are, as I feel a zing of excitement pass through me while I stare at the mirror.  
_Urges..._  
_For Potter.  
_ Upon realisation, I close my eyes. _It's a stupid, stupid urge._ I breathe and let the air fill my lungs.  
"Ay, what do you think you're doing?"  
I grab the mirror and toss it directly behind me. Blaise is going to interrogate, should he see it again. "I'm resting, nitwit." _I'm resting my sore brain, from thinking all those... thoughts, about Potter._ "By the way," I try to direct this somewhere else, "what's that smell?"  
"Oh, um, that would be a Hufflepuff fox and I."  
"What?"  
"Your bed. Sorry we had to use it." I can see a smile just twitching his lips.  
"What?!" My eyes widen, but even then, Potter's still on my mind. _"You had sex on my bed?!?!"_ I scream it at the top of my lungs and immediately jump off. That'll teach him. But despite my outburst and as Zabini's disgusting secret is uncovered, I can't help but think  
  
_ What's Potter doing now? _


	13. Draco: Stray Fingers

> by Perr, to all the fans of this piece, with love :D
> 
> Draco's POV  
  
Ron the giraffe says defiantly, "I wouldn't do that if I were you!"  
I nibble at my itchy paw and catch a fellow chinchilla, coat brown and soft-looking, staring at me.  
"Eep! Harry, get away!"  
"Oh, be quiet, you Weasel giraffe," I frown. My floppy ears twitch and I scurry towards my furry arch-rival. Some kind of mating instinct overtakes me.  
"Draco, you're mad," a pigeon coos. It's their smart aleck pal, Granger.  
  
Oh my gods, what kind of dream was that?  
I slept on the couch because I couldn't bear to think of sleeping in my bed anymore. My neck aches, and I stretch. It's too early for preparation, too early for anything. I can't believe I was a chinchilla that wanted to hump another. I can't believe I'm finding out that I don't fancy girls, and I can't believe that I'm lusting after him.  
I can't believe I can't help myself.  
This time, I'm going to start convincing myself that it's the hormones raging through my blood. Blood.  
Blood rushes everywhere, particularly to my head, _both heads._ I almost laugh, and get up with one arm. My cast is really getting in the way of things; it should be all right to take it off today. I should be heading over to have it removed later. In the meantime, I don't know what I should do. I look around. There's some parchment on a table nearby.  
  
  
  
This really sucks.  
Pomfrey's being such a nag. But I'm feeling much, much better, and with Goyle and Crabbe by my side, I can relax.  
My shirt sleeves are rolled up, and I rub my wrist. What a relief. I wouldn't know what I'd do without magic.  
"I never thought I'd get it off," I sigh. "I don't think I would have..." Speech dies down as I notice Harry Potter at the corner of my eye, who's obviously trying to not look obvious by engaging in useless conversation with his friends.  
Goyle notices too, from my distracted eyes. "Want me to deal with him?"  
"No," I reply, "If there's anything to do with him, I'll deal with it myself."  
_Yeah, sure. I'd probably make him drop to his knees. Run my hands through his hair. Get naked. Make him---_  
"Oi!" A stubby finger jabs my side.  
"Ow." I narrow my eyes at Crabbe. He looks at me awkwardly.  
"It doesn't work with your eyes."  
_Oh yes it does. Undressing does wonders._ "I didn't say now."  
He shrinks. "Just saying."  
I pause. "But maybe now isn't a bad idea."  
I run fingers through my hair like I always do sling my cloak over my shoulder, and shove one hand into my pocket.  
  
Granger rolls her eyes when I approach, as usual. Weasely, he whispers something in his friend's ear. I make a gesture, signaling both of my friends to keep his friends back. "Hey!" she struggles. "Let go!"  
"What're you doing?" Potter says, looking at his friends with concern. "If you're looking for a fight, I'll give it to you, just don't involve them."  
"You tell 'im Harry!"  
"Shut up Ron! Don't waste your breath on these large brainless tyrants."  
I step up to him, this disgrace that I've... _I won't admit anything. It's the hormones._ His lips are pursed tightly, somewhat unimpressed.  
There's the parchment I wrote on that's in my pocket, at my fingertips, and I take it. I lean into him –gods, I can almost taste him- and breathe into his ear, "Bring it on, then."  
From my pants, my hand slithers inside of his cloak and I slip it deep within his own front pocket. He inhales sharply. There's all sorts of heat going on in there... I just want to leave myself there a little longer, but instead, I take my hand and give two pats, making sure it's safe, smile, and walk away.  
"C'mon, let's go."  
"That's all?" Goyle says, displeased. He lets go of Mudblood. "I thought you were going to deck him one right in the face!"  
I ignore him. _I probably scared him half to death, if anything at all._ Two seconds of searching jade eyes, my heel spins and I decide to get going for class, feeling way too sexy for anything else.  
  
I probably scared myself half to death as well.


	14. Harry: Unease

> by Jas. Perr is ecstatic about the positive reviews, especially a constructive one. We'll try our best to not cornify the story, but sometimes we just want to be lame and corny. This isn't Perr's first time having a go at major slash, but it's Jas', so... Oh well. :D Enjoy.  
  
Harry's POV  
  
Yesterday passed rather slowly; as if something was missing. Hmm.  
I'm tired from the little conflict within myself; some part of me thinks I actually_ like_ Malfoy. I refuse to believe that. _I mean, come on, after a stupid, revolting dream and I think I like him? Crazy!_   
Absolutely," goes the annoying voice. Shit, this is not helping.  
  
  
  
It's finally lunch time, and as usual, Ron, Hermione and I walk to the Great Hall together. It seems like I am too hungry to worry about Malfoy; I almost forgot about him for a while there.  
We're reaching the Hall and I see that someone._ He's out!_ God, I suppress my urge to run up and hug him. _Fuck, I'm going all weird again._ I have to appear normal; like I don't care. "So you _do_ care." Whatever. I start talking to Ron and Hermione about class.  
I sneak a peek at him as we walk down the steps; he's looking intolerably sexy, _and he's heading this way.  
_ I must not notice... yet.  
He is accompanied by the two trolls. They hold my friends back. _Already looking for a fight when you're just recovered? Tsk._   
I ask if he wants to duel, and he comes even nearer. Now he's standing _way too close._ This seems familiar, like the other time outside Divination class.  
I feel his hand brush past my waist, and it goes into my back pocket. I curse the school for having uniforms with such tight pockets. My face grows hot because he's making me feel bloody uncomfortable. _What the fuck is he doing, and oh my god, am I enjoying this?_ He slides his hand out; I can feel something in my pocket now. I'm guessing it's another note.   
He moves back a little. I stare at him, still bewildered. He smiles and leaves, but Goyle isn't very happy. "What was that all about?" Ron asks. "I don't know." I don't see the need to involve Ron and Hermione, so I will not tell them. And if Malfoy and I have anything to resolve, anything at all, it wouldn't be in front of our friends.  
  
  
  
The Gryffindors have Divination. I wouldn't say I like this class very much, but it's better than Potions anyway. I'm glad to say I dropped _that_ after OWL year. Trelawney keeps staring at me during class. Probably _"predicting"_ another early death for me again, that old fraud. I decide to read that note, I'm hoping Ron and Trelawney don't see me.  
  
_Potter,  
  
I don't know what's up with you and your sudden politeness, but don't think I'll ever change my mind about you. Because I won't.  
Which reminds me - I've yet to thank you for my near-death experience, so you better not plan anymore surprises.  
Perhaps I may be repaying your kindness these few days... Watch your back.  
  
Draco._  
  
Well, he sure seems to get a kick out of threatening me. Sad to say, it does not work. _Should I reply his letter?_ Hmm.   
I take out a piece of parchment, and I start by writing Draco. How curious. I throw that aside and take out another sheet of parchment.  
  
_Cut to the chase, Malfoy. If you want to duel me, say so. I just  
might accept.  
  
Harry.  
_  
I fold that up quickly, before Trelawney comes to check on us. "Well, Mr. Potter, you might want to look up what the Dream Oracle has to say about that," she says, pointing to my piece of homework.  
  
  
  
Class finally ends. I know my letter will not be... hand-delivered. I run off in the direction of the Owlery.  
I do not hesitate to use Hedwig.  
On my way back to Gryffindor Tower, I bump into Malfoy and his "bodyguards" again. _Why does he pop up everywhere?_  
"Potter..."  
"Sorry Malfoy. Another time, perhaps?" Going by the look on Crabbe's face, I decide not to stay.


	15. Draco: Dinnerthoughts

by Perr

Draco's POV  
  
Repulsive.  
This is the foulest thing I've ever tasted. "Ugh," I say, pushing my plate away, with yet another meal I would skip in the blink of an eye. I'd rather starve than even breathe the odour of this... this...  
"Escargot," Crabbe insists. "Eaten a lot of it, but I've never known what it really is. New on the table," and he shoves another forkful into his mouth.  
"They're garden snails," Pansy says. "Never mind, Draco, I've never had much taste for them either."  
Once again, I turn pumpkin juice into water, or syrup, or whatever besides it, and drink my fill. She just keeps sitting closer and closer to me, and eventually, I just leave my palm up and rest my cheek on it. I give up. I also notice that Crabbe has suddenly slowed down the pace of his eating.  
The Gryffindor table seems to appreciate the dishes a little more than I do, though. Finnigan, Thomas, Weasleys, Granger and Potter are all seated in the centre section of the tables, in line with my own Slytherin kin. Hmm. I'm glad he's eating, I don't think he'd look very good skinny anyway.  
I wonder what he thinks of the letter that I wrote him. I wonder if he still feels my hand, because I sure still feel all that flesh in it, as I start to draw patterns on the goblet with my finger. Whoo.  
Potter looks up and sees me staring at him, looking at my lazy self, with my hand supporting my head. I don't want to be caught, but I can't tear my eyes away from him, his scar, his eyes, those stupid, stupid glasses, the active jaw working to chew his food... I smile, but not anything threatening, just something that matches with the heat rising in my body.  
Potter doesn't look that pleased. Then I realise that the physical heat isn't really coming from me; Pansy's slipped herself under my free arm, and she cosies up.  
I can't really be bothered with her anymore, so I leave her there.  
At the corner of my eye, an owl comes flying into the hall, fast and soundless. It's Potter's owl, I've seen it too many times.  
Folded parchment falls in front of me, just short of my plate. _Sending me a letter? Something about yesterday?_ I push Pansy away and unfold the letter. To my disappointment--- _Hormones! Hormones! There is no disappointment.  
_ ---unexpectedly, it's about the challenge I issued him some time back. _Me and my dastardly plans. Fine, if you want to.  
_ I stand up and feel a bit reckless. "Hey, Harry Potter!" I shout across tables. "The Quidditch pitch! Right now!"  
_I know you want it so badly.  
And also, that did not sound quite right.  
  
  
_  
That fight did not go well.  
Me and my stupid mouth.  
Me and my stupid eyes.  
Me and my stupid mind.  
He and his wonderful distractions.  
I think I bruised my cheek. Pansy keeps touching it. Doesn't she understand that it'll only heal if she leaves it alone?!  
I end up retreating to the Boy's Dormitory. Blaise had insisted that my sheets were untainted, so I agreed to go back. I climb onto the bed and dig beneath my (new) pillow and look at myself in the mirror. Yeah, I still look fabulous, except for my cheek. The mirror is alternating between green and violet, and it's so odd to find it acting the way it is.  
"Stupid Potter."  
The mirror clouds and it's all too familiar. Instead of running for cover, I discover that a face does show after a moment... I'm very, very confused.  
"...Potter?"


	16. Harry: Conversations

by Jas  
  
Harry's POV  
  
I sit in darkness in the Boys' Dormitory. _Damned Malfoy._ He kicked my knee in the duel, and it's bloody painful. The small mirror on my bed starts to glow. I pick it up and limp to the empty Common Room.  
Malfoy. _He knows?  
_ "I see you learned how to use a two-way."  
Malfoy pauses. "A what?"  
"A two-way mirror," I can see his bruised cheek.  
"A two-way mirror?" Malfoy frowns. "...you haven't been spying on me with this, have you?"  
My face grows warm. "That's ridiculous! Who wants to spy on a git like you?"  
Malfoy bites his lip and thinks, "I don't know, you've always seemed so... fixed on me, since---" he counts with his fingers, "--forever."  
_That's not true... Is it?_ I raise my eyebrow.  
"This is your doing then, this glow-screen thing?"  
"What?"  
"This," Malfoy says. I'm surprised his tone hasn't got bite. "This. You sent me this mirror?"  
"Oh... I did."  
"So, what are you up to this time? Didn't get enough of me in that duel?" He smirked.  
I'm feeling all weird again. "Only trying to find out what you're planning to pull on me, before you actually do anything."  
"But you sent it to me first!" his tone climbs a little higher. "Gods, Potter, everyone can see that you're just too scared to face the real me. It's probably the real reason why you sent this."  
"I've told you! Man, you won't know the truth even if it hit you in the face." I consider telling Malfoy about the truce, but think better of it.  
He becomes quiet. "I don't have anything under my sleeve yet."  
"Well, that's good to know. I'm sick of your stupid jokes, you know that?"  
"Yeah, which is why I still pull them after all this while."  
_Should have known._  
"Potter, this is no use." Malfoy thinks for a short second. "We've been at it forever."  
"So what _are_ you trying to say?"_ Man, he's contradicting._ "A truce?"  
"Well, I wouldn't call it that, I'd just call it a break from this hostility. But, if only you agree to it, that is."  
"Sounds alright to me." _Finally, some peace._  
"Ok."  
Awkward silence.  
"You know, I wouldn't even bother for a handshake, if I could manage it now." Malfoy adds.  
"Don't think I would shake yours either, Malfoy, unless we're both made Quidditch captains."  
More, awkward silence.  
"How do I get off this thing?"  
"Leave it alone?"  
"You sent it, you should know! I'm not going let this run so you can hear me while I'm sleeping!"  
"I've never used one before. Fine, I won't keep it on... Same goes to you." _Hearing him sleep? Isn't he paranoid.  
_ "Ok. Then I'll just put it somewhere else, then."  
"Fine."  
"Fine."  
"Yeah."  
"OK."  
Even more silence.  
And I shove it into my pocket. 


	17. Draco: Dinnerthoughts, Again

by Perr - we've only managed to write out 22 chapters so far. Now it's hitting 17, so we hope you're patient, because of a big time constraint! Give us time, yeah?, and until chapter 22, keep checking back everyday for updates. Thanks for your support! :D  
  
Draco's POV  
  
_---powerful urges---  
---see yourself---  
---urges---  
---entering---  
---see yourself... powerful urges---  
_  
"I DO NOT HAVE ANY BLOODY URGES!"  
Oh my goodness.  
The bed is hot like a bed of coals, and I roll over from my side onto my back. I think I pulled a muscle with that waking jerk.  
Three shadows loom over me as one eye reluctantly opens itself. The sun hasn't risen, and someone's wand is glowing.  
I shoot up and scoot backwards, managing something that sounds like a big, "GYAHHH", and then I remember to breathe.  
"It was getting interesting."  
I do not hesitate to point all three of them one long, middle finger. "Go to hell."  
The voice had come from that busybody Blaise, who is now moving backward with an amused smile on his face. Goyle gently flicks his wrist with a short breath of _Nox,_ and it's dark again. Crabbe folds his arms.  
"You've been dreaming every night, Drake," Goyle says, "and honestly, whatever you dream about, it's starting to get a little noisier each time."  
For the first time in a long time, I'm ready to admit that I'm embarrassed. I quietly pray inside myself that they don't hear anything... Uncivilized.  
"And he's here because...?" I trail off. Sometimes, I just hate looking at his face. If we have a smirk battle, I'd be having a hard time fighting.  
"Because I think you're hiding something from us."  
"I wonder what it is."  
"We're your best friends, Draco," Blaise says, bringing each of his arms over each side of my dorm mates.  
"Yeah. _They,_ are my best friends," I reply curtly. I whip the blanket off my feet and get off the bed. "Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."  
Goyle shrugs off Zabini and says, "Hey, don't get mad at us; it's all Crabbe's fault."  
"Hey!"  
"Look, I don't care whose fault it is, just don't bloody bother me by bringing in strangers to the circle." I feel annoyed. What do they need to know? The truce between Potter and I stays where it is. "Malfoys' business should stay our business, and you know well enough not to step over that border."  
I can tell Blaise is a little pissed by my resilience. "Well, in that case, _fine._ But don't think you can hide anything from me, Draco, even if it's up in that head of yours." He moves away before I can throw him a death glare, then I'm left alone with my cronies.  
"What an idiot," I say. I swear that Crabbe and Goyle pass a look to each other. "I'm going to get changed."  
I can't possibly go back to sleep, or I'll just make more noises. More noises that might involve the word _Potter._

* * *

The second meal of the day is almost over. The sun's heat has been dying towards the end of the week, which is a good thing. I don't know what to say about anything at all, because a lot's been happening, and it's giving me a headache. It's also given me a B- for the Potions test I took recently.  
Potter's watching me, I know it. I can feel his gaze all over me, my hair, the apple of my healing cheek, the collar of my shirt, my hand poking at the food on my plate (yet again). I wonder when I'm ever going to tell him that I want to bend him over the table in front of everyone and just---  
"Ay, you there." Someone pokes at my head. Pansy, again. "You're not listening."  
_I'm not obligated to._ I can't answer her. I have to think of what to say to the Gryffindor. It feels strangely... relieving, that awkward conversation we had last night, and I'm not about to let a growing opportunity slip through my fingers.  
_Opportunity for what?_  
"Something on my mind," I reply her. _Someone on my mind._  
"Oh, please do share," she says, immediately interested.  
"It's nothing, it's nothing."  
I excuse myself from the table and head off to somewhere else. I give a final look to Potter.  
He's disappeared.  
Maybe it's still the hormones, but I have this urgent need to talk to him. _Where do we go from here? _That I've got his back if he's got mine. That we're neutral and anything but buddies. That I want to shag him senseless by the end of the day. Ok, scratch that last bit.  
But I just can't find him. Everything: my thoughts, my mind, my dreams, they all spiral down to him and I need to say  
_GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD  
_before it pops out of my neck. I don't know what Trelawny's Divinations lesson has done to me, but I know that something's changed. I'll still give the same scowl, make fun of the way he looks, and swear at his almost- constant stupidity, but something on the inside would've just _changed._  
And then I just suddenly get an urge to devise plans to bed _Harry Potter._  
Gods.  
Help me.


	18. Harry: Moving On

by Jas  
  
Harry's POV  
  
Saturday morning.  
Ron wakes me up, "Hey Harry, how'd it go last night?"  
"How did what go?" I mumble; still half asleep. _I can't seem to remember anything about last night.  
_ "Did you fight with him?"  
"Oh!" I slowly get up. "Yeah, I did. We didn't use magic."  
"Really! So... what happened? I bet you pounded him into a pulp, didn't ya?"  
I chuckle. "I don't think I could do that, Ron." He opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off, "... I got him in the face, if that's what you want to know. And I think..." I roll back my pants, "There. He kicked me there." A patch of black-and-blue formed overnight, and it feels terribly sore if I moved it.  
He moves his hand, and I catch it before it comes into contact with my new weak-point.  
"Don't even think about it," I glare at him. Ron returns it, and for a few good seconds we stare daggers at each other. Then I break into a smile and let go of his wrist.  
"Harry! _You idiot_," Ron says, now laughing along with me. He pushes my head, "Come on... breakfast."

* * *

The Great Hall is filled with excited murmurs, coming mostly from the seventh year girls. I take a seat beside Seamus, "What's happening?" I ask. He shrugs.  
I look across and see Malfoy seated at the Slytherin table, directly opposite me; clearly dazed. Only then do I remember that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter now hold a truce. _Wouldn't you believe it.  
_ I feel glad at the thought of that. No fighting for a while, so I should expect a rather peaceful school week ahead of me, right?  
"Have you seen Hermione?" asks Ron.  
"Probably in the Library. Say, you want to go there later?"  
"Yeah, I don't mind. We can do our work there till Quidditch training begins."  
"Ok."  
We finish eating and go straight to our rooms to get our books, and walk to the Library.

* * *

The Library is rather empty, as usual. And yes, Hermione was in here all along.  
We join her at a table somewhere at the back of the Library. I am determined to get work done today, and not think about... other stuff. Life's been quite hectic recently; then again maybe it's just me... _Maybe I should just start with work already.  
_ Ron and I manage to complete our Astronomy homework – with Hermione's help – and we're about to start on Divination when we hear Ron's stomach rumbling. We decide to grab a quick lunch, and then return to do our work.

* * *

"Hey, Ron, let's go earlier for training." I can't wait to fly again.  
"Ok."  
Hermione gives us this disapproving look, to which Ron says, "We've finished our work, you know."  
"Fine. And you don't have to revise?"  
"We've still got tomorrow, haven't we?"  
"I give up."  
"Alright, see you later, Hermione."  
Ron practically runs all the way outside after changing and fetching his broomstick. I hobble after him as fast as I can, not letting my leg bother me. If I was feeling down, Quidditch always made it better.  
We fly around 'til the rest of the team shows up, and then Ron starts training. "Ack, Ron, you go ahead with training. I've forgotten my goggles."  
"Aren't you careless, Harry."

* * *

I walk up the few stone steps back into the castle and hurry back to the Tower. I find my goggles without much trouble. Now I have to get back outside. This is tiring; I hope Ron doesn't mind me being late.  
The castle is very peaceful. I walk past many portraits; passages; Professor Flitwick; and a blond individual. "Ah, Potter," he says.  
"Hello, Malfoy."  
"We need to talk."  
_He sure seems to have a lot to talk about these days._ "Haven't we already done that?" I raise an eyebrow.  
"This is different."  
"Hmm." Something is certainly different. No Crabbe and Goyle, no smug look, and if I'm not wrong, some peculiar glint in his eyes. "Ok, but not now. Really got to rush." He smiles faintly and leaves.  
He understands? Was that a real smile? I continue down the stairs; another 99 questions zip through my head.  
That boy really puzzles me sometimes. 


	19. Draco: Weak Wills and Standstills

by Perr  
  
Draco's POV  
  
I had a dreamless sleep. For once, my mind was at rest, not thinking about animals and other unmentionables.  
It's evening, and dinner serves something I'm willing to eat for once –--a rack of lamb--- and I'm sawing at the last bit of flesh with my knife.  
When I'm done with the meal, I retreat back to the dorms, filled with satisfaction and red wine. Since I have this need to have a word with dear non-friend Potter, I quickly write down on a corner of my Potions text (from page 78), a message for him. I tear it out and fold it, step back into the Great Hall to send over to the Gryffindor table via my wand and a bolting _Wingardium._  
  
_ Potter.  
I hate writing so many letters to you because  
1) It makes me use a whole lot of parchment that could be saved for something else (hence the use of textbook this time around) and  
2) We look like a jolly old couple, sending each other love letters that really aren't. So use that silly map of yours, and find me lurking in one of the corridors tonight (at midnight), where we can save the trees and settle things once and for all.  
Draco._  
  
It bounces off his chest, making the rest around him look on curiously. He reads it, then throws a glance my way. I offer the most serious look I can muster, and ignore the rest around myself, but I'm quite sure that someone's watching me very closely.

* * *

Midnight.  
"Lumos," and the moonlit corridors become slightly brighter. The portraits grumble with their oil-painted lips and frown with their charcoal eyebrows, and one even snaps, "You kids better stop this curfew-cutting!"  
"Shh, you bloody old man."  
"Not any bloodier than you're going to get when you're discovered!"  
Stupid painting.  
Soft, padded feet make their way over, but there's nothing around. This is absolutely frightening, to be alone in the night here. I don't know what possessed me to come up with such a meeting place.  
"Hey," a whisper sounds, and Harry Potter appears before my eyes with map in hand, glowing wand and horrible-looking brown pants.  
"Another plaything of yours, Potter?"  
"Please. What is it that's so urgent?" he says, turning the cloak inside out so he won't misplace it.  
I falter. "T-well, I-um, um---"_Stop being incoherent!_ "---Well, I told you to come down so that I could tell you that..." _Am I going to say this?_ "...That I could tutor you if you'd like."  
"What?" he raises a brow, and replies, "Thanks, but I already have Hermione for that."  
He obviously knows that was a big, fat fib.  
"You kids, put out that light! I could go blind and I don't have any real eyes!"  
"Nox," I utter with a roll of my own eyes. I'm going to vandalise that man one day. "I've been feeling strange, Potter, this whole truce thing."  
I don't want it to be a truce anymore.  
Say it. Of all moments, a cat runs by. "Filch!" Potter exclaims, and then he hurls the entire cloak over the both of us. We back ourselves to a wall and sink slowly into a sit. _Nox._  
"Stay quiet."  
That's a bit _obvious,_ isn't it? It feels slightly itchy under the fabric. The thub-thup of boots hobble by, and then the caretaker looks around wearily with his oil lamp. He looks bigger than he really is, and I've never felt so small.  
"You too, you put out that light! Inconsiderate bunch." A painting of a milkmaid sighs at the old man portrait.  
Potter smells like a breeze. He's unbelievably alert, and ready for anything. He makes me nervous, hiding under this blanket with him, watching a grumpy Argus Filch try to find us.  
_Crash._  
The noise sends him thundering away, and we are alone again.  
"Did you do that?" I ask quietly, referring to the noise.  
"No."  
"Okay."  
When everything is dead silent (except for that grumbling man in the picture), I notice that my hand is on his thigh.  
_Let go, Draco!,_ yells an insignificant heterosexual conscience. As much as I'd like to, I can't. It just stays where it is, and I'm uselessly staring at my hand, dumbfounded by my actions.  
I notice Potter's staring at it too. He isn't doing anything about it. He doesn't look surprised, scared, shocked, glad or angry, his face is just plastered with utter indifference, like he's made out of stone for this particular moment.  
He speaks, frozen. "You were saying?" And his head turns to me fully. I can't move! I can't keep my hands off him for all the wrong reasons. "What was it that you wanted to tell me, really." He sounds short of breath.  
And I just look at him, stiff, uncomfortable, and yearning---  
  
_Malfoy, you're gonna regret this, bloody idiot_  
  
"I don't know, really. It was supposed to be about you and I."  
"What about us?"  
Us.  
Out of sudden desperation, I become mobile again, the occupied hand squeezing and  
_just like that so unexpectedly_  
my other hand pulls him forward into a heated kiss, running through tousled raven black hair, just bringing him closer and closer...  
I don't know if I'm just a hormonal teenage boy anymore.  
I don't know if he's responding, everything is going so quickly, and I'm just kissing and kissing and kissing, listening to the meet of our lips, tip of my tongue just probing an eager mouth to my own satisfaction and fingers just roaming to such hot places they shouldn't and mouth just drinking in the taste of Harry---  
---when I realise what I'm doing.  
In a lost haze of confusion and flurry, I pull away, scrambling out from under the cloak, shoving my wand in my pocket.  
Breathe.  
Breathe.  
Breathe.  
  
And I run. 


	20. Blaise: Spy Game

by Perr - thought a break from those two would be refreshing. I hope.

Blaise's POV  
  
If it's ever anything that I hate nowadays, it's that blasted Malfoy. Don't get me wrong; I still do respect him, his blood, his name, and his status in Hogwarts. It's only that prissy attitude and that head full of secrets that make my skin crawl.  
I do remember that time when he rejected my help to cure his noisy sleep habits. That was when I knew that his reluctance to share with his mates was something to be changed.  
Over dinner, I catch a glimpse of Draco, who is finishing up his meal. When he's done, he disappears, and later returns, wand in hand. He doesn't enter completely, but just stands at the entrance, and flicks his wrist hard.  
I know that I'm being ridiculous, being so suspicious, but I don't like the way he's been these few days.  
Something has happened to him.  
  
When night proceeds, I know he's going to be up tonight. It's a Friday and he doesn't get very much sleep, so he sits on the couch and does whatever he wants.  
I slip into the room unnoticed, with Goyle snug in his bed and Crabbe's limbs flailed. Draco is not there.  
There is a noise outside. I move out, and spot white-blonde strands that are out of sight in a second.  
You can't hide anything from me, Drake!  
  
It's so odd.  
I follow him through corridors and pathways, and he mumbles something about stupidity, arses and being deathly afraid of something. There's a bend he turns into, and I stop at that corner.  
"Lumos," I hear, and peer from behind the wall.  
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, and it suddenly hits me that this may be a pivotal point, where I might be able to topple Slytherin's golden boy. I rush over to the other end of the wall via another route, to get a better view. The thing is, Draco doesn't realise that I'm really good at this spying.  
Strange, Harry Potter seems to have met him. Draco is now stuttering his way out of conversation.  
Wait.  
Why are they having a rendezvous? If I do recall correctly, aren't they _enemies?  
_ They speak in hushed voices. Why are those portraits so restless? I can't hear anything. At the thought, someone comes. Harry utters a word of warning, "Filch!" The bloody cat runs past my leg and it shocks me.  
"Oh my god," I whisper harshly, and jump back. My elbow knocks a dormant painting behind, and it falls off its hook on the wall.  
Bloody hell.  
I immediately make a run for it, to wherever my feet take me. My only chance at discovering the traitor in Malfoy is foiled by a stupid feline. Ugh.  
But I will definitely sort out other ways and means to ruin that lying sod. Harry Potter is my next spy target.  
That'll teach him to disrespect me.


	21. Harry: Inside Fight

by Jas - Perr apologises for the delay. She just _couldn't _log on to because the server was too busy, and her computer had 1742 viruses. It's all fixed now. :) Thanks for the support.  
  
Harry's POV  
  
After dinner, Ron, Hermione and I decide to go sit by the lake for a while. They both know that Malfoy sent me a note – I think everyone around me knows, because Malfoy was smart enough to send it in the Hall – but not the message, of course. On the way out, Hermione continued to question me about it, despite me telling her that it's nothing, while Ron kept quiet. _Settle things once and for all... _I had to assure her that it was not another duel, or so I think.  
The air outside the castle is crisp, and the surface of the lake very much calm, with the occasional rippling of water. I see a few couples have decided to come out too. Hermione propped her head on Ron's shoulder, and even in the moonlight, I can tell that he's blushing. Everyone knows they have a thing for each other, but neither wants to admit it. They really _should _get together. I decide not to ruin their little 'moment' and just think about the note.  
_Really wonder what Malfoy wants now. _If I'd not read the note, I'd say he seems to be fond of writing letters. I realise that something bizarre happens almost everyday, and he is always involved in some way or another. _Maybe it's because of the truce._  
Anyhow, I can't describe the particular feeling I have, but I know it's not a bad one.

* * *

"Lumos." I wait until everyone's asleep before looking at the Map. Malfoy's still in his Common Room. I decide to leave earlier; perhaps I'll even have time to wander around Hogwarts a bit.  
I climb out of the portrait hole, under the Invisibility Cloak; Marauder's Map and wand in hand. Checking the Map and walking around at the same time. _Filch's on the second floor... Snape in his office... Draco Malfoy's leaving the Slytherin Tower. _Perfect. Maybe I should wait and see where he's heading and which corridor would be most convenient.  
From the Map, I can tell that he is just walking around aimlessly. I head off in his direction as quick as I can, coming across the Fat Friar along the way.  
I get to that particular corridor, but I don't see anyone there. _Ah, he's obviously still wandering around. _I whip out the Map again. Makes no sense to keep this in my pocket for now. I stride through a few other hallways. He isn't very far away at this moment.  
Then I see faint wand light at the end of the hall, and hear some cussing. _That should be him. _I check the Map again – had to be certain. _Yep. _I quicken my pace 'til I'm beside him. But he doesn't stop walking. _Oh, the Cloak._ I take it off, and acknowledge his presence with a quiet, "Hey."  
Malfoy starts stammering, then I tell him to get to the point. Meeting in the middle of the night is just... another bizarre matter.  
He tells me that he'll tutor me if I'd like. I snorted. Hmm. _Very likely. _I'm not buying _that.   
_Now he says that he has a problem with the truce_. Should have known better, he would probably die from all this civility. _Mrs Norris scurries by, before I can come up with an answer. And the Cloak saves us from the ever-cynical caretaker. _Malfoy had better not say anything now._  
All's quiet and we see Filch with his oil-lamp, looking for students out of bed. He seems to have heard our breathing and walks cautiously towards us, but there's a loud noise down yet another corridor; and he goes after it. _Oh, thank whoever! _Could be Peeves. Then again, I don't care. I just want to know what...   
There's warmth on my leg.  
What the fuck is Malfoy doing?  
A long silence.  
I try my best to pretend not to bother, and redirect my attention to why... what he really wants to tell me - something about him and myself.  
"What about us?" I ask.   
And then we... we're kissing.  
_Brain freeze. _And I lose my will to respond, or even move. I just let him kiss me.  
I'm shaking, but he doesn't notice. I don't know if I let the Cloak slip out of my hand, but that doesn't matter anymore. Seems damn long ago that we were hiding from Filch.  
He pulls away, gets out from under the Cloak, with terrified eyes and a questionable look on his face, and I watch him run off; still feeling numb and possibly just petrified. We were still... schoolmates yesterday, and now? I don't know.  
I sit in the hallway for God-knows-how-long, before staggering back to bed; still wondering... _about us. _I am not even close to questioning my sexual preference, yet.

* * *

5.24 a.m. I am the first one up, if I even slept at all.   
My friends have caught me in a reverie, too many times. I wasn't aware of whatever that happened. Not even when Hermione was lecturing Dean and Seamus at the top of her voice, or so I am told.  
This is annoying. _Am I gay?   
No.   
Yes.   
No.  
Maybe.  
No. Don't know.  
_I feel like guzzling Veritaserum now.  
My train of thought is disrupted by someone asking, "Which girl, Harry?" I turn around and see Ron looking at me. Hermione's probably eavesdropping too.  
"Huh?"  
"You heard me, which girl had got your attention?" he grins.  
"Girl? There's no girl."  
"Well, I really think you need to find yourself one then."  
"After Cho Chang?" I nearly spit. "No way, I've had enough with girls."  
Ron looks as if Dumbledore had retired. The book Hermione was reading is now on her lap. She, too, is flabbergasted.  
"Uh... for now!" I hesitate. My god, _that was close.   
_Oh. Did I just answer my previous question? 


	22. Draco: Come to Terms

by Perr - This is POV 22, which means, if you don't remember, the last time of the 'update everyday' treats we give. Unfortunately, Jas hasn't completed her side of Harry's next POV, so be patient and keep checking back! :) Btw, thanks for rave reviews. :D  
  
Draco's POV  
  
McGonagall shoots me an offending look. "Are you taking down your notes, Mr. Malfoy?"  
"Yes I am, Professor." My quill is dry, and I stare at half-filled parchment. Everyone around seems to have theirs three-quarters through, and I dip my quill in ink to catch up.  
I bite my lip.  
_I taste him. _Everything. The words on my parchment seem to dissipate into mist even though it's incapable of doing so, and my mind is set ablaze. My scribbles press harder and harder into the piece while I'm thinking of him, hair, eyes, voice, skin---  
The tip of my quill breaks.  
_Damn, _I think. I put it aside and ask to borrow one from Crabbe. McGonagall slows down to steal a quick glare at me. Crabbe hands me one of his three spare quills and I begin to write again.  
I can't possibly concentrate, no, not when it's been hardly a full day from kissing him. How can he still be concentrating so hard?!  
I'll tell you what my mind is filled with. It's a fancy room with a fancy mirror, on soft carpet. There's a fancy bed on it, and he and I are tangled between the sheets, the smell of our sex holding thick in the air. He'll be so fine on my fingertips, just so tight and mind-blowingly molten inside---  
The tip breaks again.  
"FUCK!" I shout in complete frustration, and look at the ink blotch on my once-flawless notes. I then suddenly realise that the entire class is looking at me with surprise, including a certain dark-haired boy.  
"Sit down Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall says, then scolds, "I will not tolerate such language in this class!"  
I have a feeling that I'll have my prefectorial status stripped from me for a week or so when I say it, but, "You know bloody nothing about anything or me, Professor, so screw off."  
And I leave the class.  
  
I rested for a bit before I headed to the Quidditch pitch. Crabbe had to take my things for me; I apologised later.  
Now I stand beside Goyle as we watch the rest of the team fly around aimlessly for practice. Maybe I've still got the jitters from the injury, but all I know is that I've got some sort of phobia with my broom.  
"You sure you don't want to practice?" Goyle questions.  
I shrug. "You go. I'll go later." He nods and hops onto his broom and takes off.  
It hasn't really been that long since my fall. And it's all _someone's _fault that I'm fairly afraid of flying. It's also _someone's _fault that it'll hurt when I fly, because it's _**someone's**_ fault that I've got this deep ache in my crotch thinking about him all day.  
That someone is watching me now, from a corner, and he surely thinks that I don't notice him. _Well, if you're watching... _Suddenly I don't feel that phobic about that broom of mine anymore.  
When I do get onto it, I become a total idiot, reckless fool, and shout down to him, "Hey, Potter," and he seems surprised. "Fancy a little practice with me?" I try to keep the tone a little menacing. I mean, with my teammates around, it just isn't safe to go around _talking _to Potter instead of snarling at him.  
He gives me this curious look. _Hmm, _I think, _he must be thinking of practice of some other kind. _Ha, the thought puts a fantastic smirk on my face. I wonder if he _wants _that practice.  
Because if he isn't going to do anything, I'll go down there and _practice _with him myself.  
Wait a minute. Why is he walking away?  
I almost protest, but a girl flies past me in a frightening whiz. "Why don't you two just get married!"  
Not a bad idea. _Goodness, Draco, please. Wanting to pound him into a bed doesn't mean you want to exchange vows with him. Stupid boy. _And as I think that, I don't know whether I'm scolding him, or myself.  
Oh well. I grab the front of my broom, fly forwards and try to ignore the discomfort he's caused in my robes.

* * *

Night is a funny thing. It makes the shade of everything look darker, makes dull colours look black and neutral tones look gray. There is warmth under my pillow.  
It's been days since I've looked into the mirror that he gave me. I refuse to look at it. Well, not that I don't want to, but talking to my supposed-current-worst enemy in the middle of the night will be a little suspicious to my fellow dorm mates. I head to the common room.  
  
It's equally dark here, and everyone seems to be tucked in their beds soundly. Good. Finding a spot behind the couch, I light up my wand and look into an orange mirror. The light won't be that obvious here.  
"You kissed me!" Potter barks. He looks stressed and like he's just gotten out of bed. He isn't wearing his glasses.  
His outburst surprises me. "...Well, you _talked_." He frowns. "I had to do something to shut you up, right?"  
"No," he disagrees. "You kissed me, and then you ran away!"  
"I did not run away."  
"Yes, you did, bloody chicken."  
"And what does it matter to you if I did?"  
He is quiet for a second. "We weren't done with our conversation." He pauses again. "You were saying something about the truce."  
"Yeah, I was. But we're far beyond it now."  
"Really, Malfoy, I hate you for doing this to me."  
"Doing what to you?" He's bloody uncomfortable and I love doing this to him. "I mean, that kiss was just one kiss, I didn't think you'd be so hot in your pants for another one."  
That was meant as a half-joke, but he obviously isn't laughing, neither is he near a smile. Instead, he's dead silent, and something that's like a heavy rocket of satisfaction launches itself around my system.  
There's a noise that makes me look up and about. _Nox, _then I peer from behind the couch. It's that nosy Blaise looking around. I wonder how long he's been there. His eyes dart across the room, and I try to hide myself from his sight, but I think he's seen me. Even if he has, he doesn't do anything except head back into the dorms. ...Suspicious.  
When I turn back to the mirror, I see that the screen is still orange, but clear. _That's strange. _As much as I want to keep talking to him, I find that I'm too tired to. I get up, sigh, and decide to go to sleep. 


	23. Harry: Talk About

by Jas - Check back in for Draco's on monday :) Give Jas some time for her Harrys. Thanks for being so patient! We can guarantee that it will get slightly more tangled and interesting in chapters to come.  
  
Harry's POV  
  
I wander around after lessons, deciding to go outside – where I can mull over the previous week and everything else. I unwittingly walk to the Pitch, and some people are already there. The Slytherin team is practicing. I realise that their seeker is no where in the sky, but on the ground; clutching his broomstick and looking doubtful.  
_So much for thinking, now.  
_I fold my arms and decide to watch. _What are you gonna do?, _I wordlessly mock him. I'm guessing he saw me watching, because he suddenly looks as if flying was child's play. And trying to impress me, or just being the old Malfoy-self, he kicks hard at the grass; a blur of dark green and white shoots up.  
I contemplate walking away - since Draco Malfoy is no longer afraid of flying – but I seem incapable of movement. I must look like a complete idiot; shoulder glued to castle wall; just watching him. And it's _Malfoy, _for goodness sake.  
Like we're on good terms or something, he invites me to join the training. I think he has he gone off his rocker! Either that or he sure is good at pretending, like nothing happened between us, except for the little bust up with McGonagall in Transfiguration. _And I was trying my damn best to concentrate in class._ I had a feeling that _that _had something to do with last night's event. I'm even questioning if it did happen. _It... couldn't have been a... dream, could it? _I hope it was, but then again, I hope it wasn't.  
I look up at him, trying to come up with an answer. His white- blond hair falls around his face as he peers down, with an odd, dreamy expression-- It's hard not to leave. _And apparently, I _have _no answer._  
Damned Malfoy.  
That's it. _I'm out of here.   
_I jog back to the Dormitory, desperately in need of a place to just rest. My annoyance grows with every flight of stairs passed. How often do I face this peculiar feeling of disappointment coupled with something-else? The closest any situation could have gotten may be the time when I was with Cho. Yet, that was still very different from _this.  
_  
I sprint up the remaining steps to the Dormitory, refusing to look anywhere else, if anyone is in the Common Room at all.  
_Why am I bothered? Why do I even let him get to me? _I'm so predictable that it's probably all too easy for him.  
I flop onto my bed and almost involuntarily, dig out that mirror --- it _is _our channel of communication. Sometimes I still wonder if sending him the mirror was a good idea. I yell his name into it; obviously forgetting that he is at training.  
Nothing.  
I leave the mirror and my glasses somewhere on the bedside table, and fall asleep.  
  
An abrupt jerk wakes me and I realise the room is nearly pitch-black, except for a dim source of light. It is _12-fucking-midnight. _I am only feeling slightly better, but bloody hungry, considering I missed dinner. I could always sneak down to the Kitchens though.  
I sit up and something on the table reflects whatever moonlight there is. Hmm. _Then again, _I could choose to disturb Malfoy instead.  
I creep out of the Dormitory, making sure the door was properly shut before heading to the Common Room, where I sit on my favourite squishy arm chair. "Draco Malfoy." I'm quite tired of thinking about that name; I don't even want to say it. _He had better answer.  
_There is no image in the mirror. Well, it's probably just as bright in the Slytherin Tower. But I think I see a hint of his blond hair.  
I wait.  
Then an image of his face appears. I am quite disappointed that he doesn't look half as irritated as I expected him to be. He looks rather contented, in fact.  
I reproach him for what he did. I decide to say whatever's on my mind, and "You kissed me!" comes out in a tone far from composed.  
"... I had to do something to shut you up, right?"  
_If I'd remember properly, it was you who wanted to talk.  
_"I mean, that kiss was just one kiss, I didn't think you'd be so hot in your pants for another one."  
I am definitely not impressed. _Stupid twit of a Malfoy. _I would have hexed him right there and then, if I could. My mind refuses to form a complete sentence quite soon as I would have liked it to.  
He takes his turn to leave before I can retort.


	24. Draco: Today, Everyday

by Perr  
  
Draco's POV  
  
Sundays are fine. No classes, no teachers, no learning, no studying new topics. Air is cool and dry, a nice change from the hot and humid of the other days in the past weeks. A lot's happened in the past weeks. It's still on my mind.  
Everyone thinks I'm crazy. Okay, only my mates whom I hang around with think I'm crazy. Thankfully, they've all been hush-hush about whatever they've been suspecting, what with the noisy dreams, the non-scowling at supposed mortal enemies. I'm not going to mention any names here. If they ever found out, it'd be just too much to handle, even for myself.  
I'm in a terrible state of confusion, these things they call 'feelings', the kind to do with the lust in your veins and the haze of sex holding over your head. It doesn't help to tell myself to stop thinking, because I'll just keep thinking harder about everything, especially when Potter's around most of the time during the thoughts.  
My thumbs twiddle, then I shift about. Grass is fresh, wet and sweet- smelling. Everything is calm. I am calm.  
Something's definitely wrong with today.  
Someone's cloak brushes past me. "Hello," the female voice says, flooding me with a wash of disappointment. Not who I wanted. Pansy sits herself down next to me. Even _she _has a different air about her.  
I don't answer her. My mind is drawing a large blank, because that's all it really does nowadays when Harry Potter's not in it. "Not going out of school?" she continues.  
"No," I reply simply.  
She issues herself with a thoughtful pause. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss."  
"What loss?" I ask.  
Pansy frowns. "Your prefect badge."  
_Oh. That. _"It's temporary." _And quit sitting so close. It makes me uncomfortable. _"It's only for a while."  
"A while? Draco, what's wrong with you? First you stray from your friends, and then you go completely out of control, misbehaving and such!" she says. "What's wrong?"  
"I've told you so many times, there are just some things on my mind that I have to keep to myself."  
"Well, it's not healthy! You can't bottle it up forever."  
_Watch me. _"What are you getting at?" I look at her strangely.  
There's something very wrong with today.  
"Nothing, I'm just concerned." _Well, don't be then. _Pansy's hands are gathered in her lap as she looks at me. "Look, even if you won't tell me anything, I'll just let you know I'll be here for you always."  
"Yeah. Thanks." I don't know if my tone is cold, but cold is what I feel when she opens her arms up to hug me. This feels really, really, awkward as I feel her chest pressed up to mine, and as my chin hooks over her shoulder.  
...Hey, this isn't really so bad. She's warmer than she seems, and the feeling of a girl in my arms twists some dials in my head.  
Would _he _feel good in my arms?  
Perhaps we'll be kissing our lives away.  
I pull away from that thought.  
I'm fucking confused! Shit.  
"I'll be off now," she says. "See you later, then."  
I watch her walk away and wonder.  
At the corner of my eye, I realise that a figure who's been watching me this whole time with an expression of disbelief on his face is Harry.  
Everything I've been thinking fades away in an instant. When he walks away, I feel the flame in my heart flicker, and suddenly, this horrible guilt consumes me like a wildfire to dry leaves.  
I'm even more fucking confused.  
There is something wrong with today.  
In fact, my gut tells me that the entire week ahead of me, is going to be totally **wrong. **


	25. Harry: Averted Mind

by Jas - sorry for delay. Having long busy days.  
  
Harry's POV  
  
This is boring the hell out of me. I am wasting a whole good afternoon, sitting in a very noisy Common Room, doing nothing. Anyway, it's not like I want to study now. I really wonder how Hermione does it. Speaking of Hermione, she and Ron just walked into the Boys' Dorm.  
  
I'm not invited.  
  
Well, at least none of them beckoned me to. Come to think of it, this is the second time this week. Maybe they're discussing some Prefect matters. Yet again, it is rather... _dodgy.   
_I drum my fingers on the table; head propped on my palm. I stare out of the big window, letting my mind drift a bit. Random thoughts start pouring into my head, but evaporate quickly, making way for something else... something else that's been at the back of my head the whole time.   
Wednesday night... Wednesday night keeps playing over and over again. This has become a happy thought. _But I'll never admit it.   
_Actually, why should I be happy about it? I am straight, for goodness sake. I like girls. _Stop grinning, Harry.   
_There.   
Ron's right. I _do _need a girl. But which girl? I make a mental list of girls from my House, and I find myself crossing out their names. This isn't as easy as I thought it would be. It doesn't even feel right.   
I leave my little corner and go to the bathroom.

* * *

The place is empty; air is still. There is water on the floor, but the whole place is clean. A portrait of some kind of magical being and a young girl watches me as I scan the bathroom. They are not as chatty as that mermaid portrait in the Prefects' bathroom.  
"You look bothered." The young girl finally speaks.   
"Yes, I think I am." I reply her, quite glad that I have someone, or something, to talk to.  
"What is it?"   
"I don't quite know."   
She frowns. _Hey, I'm not lying. _And she smiles again, "I suggest you sort it out soon."  
_She can read my mind? _Now, that is an intimidating thought. _I don't think I quite like my thoughts being read, thank you. _She nods and resumes looking after the magical being.  
I walk over to the basin and look at my reflection. _My final year here at Hogwarts... All the memories... _So much has happened in the last seven years. I'm not sure what will happen after this one.  
"Well, I'll rather waste my perfectly good afternoon outside, than inside the castle." I say aloud.

* * *

Once outside, I walk over to my favourite spot, which is beside the lake, with a huge rock beneath a tree.  
But it is already occupied by a blond someone. His back is facing me. Well, I guess it is a very likeable spot.  
I continue walking, with hands stuffed into my pocket, thinking of what to say to him... now that... things are slightly different.   
I realise that he's already talking to a girl. As I walk closer, I recognize that it's Pansy Parkinson. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.   
Pansy's expression changes from discontent to satisfaction as I walk nearer.   
Then she hugs him.   
I stop walking; my heart's hammering away. I feel quite lost. _At least my jaw's not hanging open.   
_Somehow, he turns around. He seems dumbstruck.  
I turn and walk away; the bitter cold of autumn stings my face.

* * *

I go back to the Common Room, determined to remain unruffled. The first person I notice is Hermione, who is buried in her books again. Ron's not there.   
"Where's --?"   
She looks up. I scan the room and see Ron with other Gryffindor boys at the other end.   
"So, Prefects meeting's over?"   
"Prefects meeting?" She looks puzzled.   
Hermione's cheeks suddenly turn a deep shade of red.   
"What?" It's my turn to be baffled.   
"Oh nothing much..."   
I give her an out-with-it look that she's familiar with.   
"Umm... Ron and I... We thought... Well... We're together." She whispers the last bit.   
_So, Ron and Hermione, finally together! I mean, that's good, but there's only so much I can take in a day!_   
I laugh in spite of my present mood. _I am a good actor. _"Please say you're ok with it."   
"I am, of course! That's just fantastic, really." I manage a smile.   
"We knew you'll be fine!" She hugs me.   
_What is it with girls and hugs today?   
_But I guess it's quite alright.   
"Thanks, Harry."   
"Hey, no problem."   
_Maybe Pansy gave him the same kind of hug._   
Why should I care?


	26. Draco: Bittersweet

by Perr - being sick sucks.  
  
Draco's POV  
  
As far as I know, Honeydukes seems to be my place of interest right now. It might be a little late for me to grow myself a sweet tooth, but I'm feeling definitely not going to stop myself from grabbing things off the shelf by the handful.  
Each wooden shelf is lined neatly, fully stocked, and divided equally into two by an imaginary line for two separate kinds of confectionery. Tops are chocolates, bottoms are sweets, and there are about six of these five- tiered shelves stretching from one end of the shop to the other. Honeydukes is no way any smaller than it looks on the outside.  
I look at a basket of lollipops at the end of the shelves, right at the bottom, stashed away. They're wrapped in clear cellophane and I have an itch to pick at the weak wire bind keeping it together. A tag on the basket says, _Not for children. _Hmm.  
Someone pushes himself to the front of me and makes an effort to cover it all up. "You're not supposed to be looking at these," a big, burly man says. Obviously, I did not notice the rest of the candy around it; _Amazing Ambrosia, Black Sugar Caramels _(apparently to get someone in the mood), _Strawberrysomethings_ and some other sugary concoctions meant for bedroom parties. What can I say, I forgot to look at the tags that said 'Adults Only'.  
My brows are raised when I turn around. Crabbe looks at the display and shrugs. Maybe I'll come back later to see what things I can sneak into my pockets.  
I walk towards glass panel half-filled with butterscotch beetles, wicker toffee and neatly-packed boxes of chocolate frogs, under New Arrivals. None of these pique my interest except for Bertie Bott's, lemon sherbets and good ol' plain Muggle-brand Cadbury chocolate.  
Before I can reach for the boxes and bars, a hand grabs my wrist in a vice-like grip.  
"Potter." There's a stern look on his face, and I try to lose his hold, but I can't. He squeezes even tighter in response, which makes my mind go _tick-tick.  
_Too many people around. Can't be seen like this!  
Stupid thoughts are coming back to me. His glare is so penetrating, it practically screams his message, **WE HAVE TO TALK, **but I can't talk. I can't bring myself to. I'm not saying anything. I'm not admitting that I've got the hots for him---  
---which is not the point that I just did.  
"If you want to talk proper," I pry his fingers from my arm forcefully, "you're going to do it in a place where it won't ruin us both. Now go away." His face is plastered with slight pain. I almost apologise for it, but then I pass him a look of my own instead.  
We speak no further.  
To be rightfully honest, being so cold to him a lot of the time, is hard.  
I feel fucking horrible.  
  
Dinner isn't as forgiving either.  
It's roasted chestnuts and trout, beside it, a plate of chicken again. Pumpkin juice is in my cup; I can't be bothered to change it. I'm eating slowly, being watched by Miss Parkinson and Mr. Potter.  
Well, no prizes for guessing who my eyes are on, but it's so unbelievable that the entire world isn't looking at him now. He's licking his lips and sucking his fingers, and no one has any idea of what it does to me. I wonder if he's doing everything on purpose.  
The pad of his thumb parts from his lips and I reckon the sound coming from it would be like that of a kiss. Then his head turns and  
he talks to a girl.  
It isn't Granger, this girl is one whom I've never seen before, or at least, never bothered to notice, _until now. _And you know what pisses me off most about it?  
He looks at me at the corner of his emerald greens knowingly, proceeding to burst out in almost genuine (but convincing) laughter. The girl speaks, and then ---he can't possibly be faking THIS, to my disappointment--- he blushes, rosy red rising to his cheeks.  
"C'mon Draco, eat up," Pansy encourages. "Don't make me feed you."  
My head snaps to my right to stare. One last glance to Potter pushes me to an out-of-this-world decision, "Do it."  
"What?" Goyle says with his mouth full. His brow is raised, as if he's hard of hearing.  
Pansy also gives me a did-you-just-tell-me-to-feed-you look. There's a bit of a fluster, and then she quite gladly says, "Ok."  
I definitely do NOT know what I'm thinking. I don't bother to see Potter's reaction because this requires intricate Malfoy care for it to work. Slim fingers pick a silver spoon from my hand. A quarter of the Slytherin table watches carefully. Gods, this makes me feel like I'm in a really bad porno.  
She digs it into something on her plate that closely resembles bangers and mash. The spoon lifts to my lips, I open up and she ends up pulling out an empty spoon from my mouth, with utmost satisfaction. My lips automatically quirk up into a smile that's bound to make Potter pissed off quietly, as Blaise mouths at the same time, "Get a room."  
"Hmm," I say, leaning back onto my chair and swallowing the spoonful. Maybe I look exceptionally happy, or relaxed to say the least, but all I'm feeling inside is a torrent battle to stop the start of an already formulated plan. I remain senseless as I speak to myself in silent, incoherent babble.  
You get the 'senseless' part?  
Dear Harry looks terribly displeased, as expected. He glares ferally and a little sexed up emotion crawls up my spine. Ha.  
However, he counterattacks by leaning a little too closely to let the girl whisper into his ear. Can I throw up now?  
I'm not jealous. Just in slight pain.  
_Ok, I'll raise a white flag for now. Like they always say, **you may have won the battle, but you haven't won the war.**  
_And since he's trying to play this little game with me, I'm going to prove him that two can play at this game,  
_And I'm going to win. _


	27. Harry: Really, Really Bitter

by Jas- Perr is grumpy about the paragraphing with tabs. It does not show up. :/  
  
Harry's POV  
  
Ron suggested that we come to Hogsmeade to 'hang out, and look around', and here we are. However, I do suspect that his real reason for coming here is to swig some Firewhisky. _Not that he's really allowed to._ Anyhow, I'm just glad that Seventh years are allowed to leave and return later.  
There are quite a number of Hogwarts students around. There's Justin Finch-Fletchley; Dennis Creevey; one of those girls who is rumoured to have a crush on me; a group of Slytherin girls; a group of Hufflepuffs; and there's Ginny with some boy from Ravenclaw. Hmm... still better not let Ron see.  
I notice that Ron and Hermione are walking considerably closer than usual. Well, now that they're together... I never really did ask when they started, did I? Suppose I could do that later. It's not like I feel left out or anything.  
"You guys want to go on yourselves?" I ask innocently.  
Hermione glances at Ron, who says, "We're good... But if you want to, we're not forbidding you."  
_Should I?  
_I look around, maintaining a blithe appearance, trying my best to immediately find somewhere to go to.  
I suppose I'll need a bit of gold. "Ok. So I'll catch you guys later?" I say, signalling to the small bank.  
"Yeah, ok."  
"And meet you in the... where?"  
"Hogs-- _Ow... _Three Broomsticks?" Hermione elbows Ron really hard. Guess she probably knew he wanted to go to the Hogs Head. Just too smart, that woman. _Good luck, Ron._  
"Ok." Walking away, I leave the new couple with a wink.  
  
The 'small bank' was definitely not small. It was one of those shop houses that looked old and shabby on the outside, but inside... inside was a completely different story. The place was quite magnificent; leading me to believe that this could be a part of Gringotts, or they could be magically connected in some way. You'll never know.  
Well, maybe Hermione does, but I won't bother to ask her.  
The goblin at the counter doesn't seem very friendly. But _all _goblins don't look very friendly. Stout and odd-looking; long fingers counting Galleons and Sickles; staring straight into your eyes – oh wait, this one was a bit cock-eyed. I sincerely hope that they can't read minds, especially mine. I might be hexed if they knew what I thought of them and their scratchy voices and... Nevertheless, I shall not mess with one.  
I collect some money and hurry out of the place, glad to be away from it... _and those things. _I see that girl talking to Ginny. That girl who supposedly likes me... I hope they don't spot me. I don't need another girl gushing over--  
"Hey, Harry!"  
_Too late.  
_I am kind of forced to wave to them. And Ginny beckons me over, which is **just great. **Just as I'm walking towards them, Malfoy and his cronies step into Honeydukes. _Stop showing up everywhere already. _But then again, this is a school trip.  
I'm quite sure he has something to tell me.  
But that will have to wait. The girl seems a bit nervous and excited; she has taken to staring at my feet instead. Come to think of it, I have seen her in the Common Room before. She's a fellow Gryffindor, is she not?  
"Hello! Where're you heading?" Ginny starts. There's a big, big grin on her face.  
"Hmm... Just walking around."  
Then pointing to the other girl, she says, "My friend, Alexis Vine. She's also from Gryffindor; sixth year."  
Oh, so now she's Ginny's friend. **Even better. **"Hello, I'm Harry." To which, she lets out a small giggle. I guess what they say is true, because her ears are turning really red as well. And we shake hands. A good actor's got to do what a good actor's got to do.  
Well, I've got to admit, she is rather pretty.  
Ginny giggles too. _What is it with girls? _"Did you see my brother anywhere?"  
"Well, he went to the Three Broomsticks. I'm supposed to meet him there later."  
"Ok, see you there, then?"  
"Sure. Why not?"  
The girls don't exactly walk away, but loiter around a bit.  
I know not what I got myself into, because Honeydukes, here I walk.  
  
I expected to go in unnoticed, but the stupid liquorice-covered monkey in the display window started dancing and making unnecessary noises, as a form of a greeting. The shopkeeper smiles and Goyle does what he does best - blinking idiotically, in a corner.  
Honestly, he could do something right for once, and eat that monkey. I see the other fool already eyeing it. Whoever does it, I'd pay him.  
At least that particular person didn't turn around. But is that a good thing?  
I approach him - not in the way I had in mind, but I figured it was the only means of getting him to acknowledge my presence. Knowing him, he'll just go about picking sweets and ignore me completely.  
And here I am, struggling to form sentences again. I'd even spit out the words; I don't care. Just as long as I can get the damned message across...  
...before he tells me to go away - like talking to a dog; an animal.  
Sorry to say, I would have let his wrist go if I was still holding it; hear it fall and drop on the floorboards with a loud 'thud,' before kicking it.  
You thick, unfeeling, little _bitch.  
Brilliant, _Alexis is peering into the shop.


	28. Draco: Pansy Plans

by Perr - still no paragraphing! :/ Thanks for the reviews so far!

Draco's POV

Clouds of mist swirl in perfect spirals from the teacher's wand.

"If any of you have the time, have a look at the extra references to what we've done today."

I've never heard of advanced hexing, so the lessons now seem almost ludicrous and irrelevant. They might as well teach us how to defend ourselves from Unforgivable Curses.

I spend the remaining minutes of the lesson staring at the back of Potter's head. _Oh come on, you should at least believe me when I say it. _He's always in the front, always the hero, always the Gryffindor to step up to the face of danger. He may be courageous, but he certainly isn't very well off in the noggin, is he? Up until now, he still hasn't done anything about me, or my feelings, or my biting zipper, or our situation. And he's still hanging around that girl.

She doesn't take the double DAs, so she isn't here for me to observe with an evil eye. But I know that she probably takes classes with him that I _don't _attend. This makes me very compelled to get to know him better.

Something ticks in my brain. _Feelings! Hormones! Horrific, horrific control of emotions, Draco._ I shove the part of my mind away.

"Hey," Goyle nudges me as we finally step out of class. "Just saw Granger and Weasley's hands together."

"Mmm," I say, not really listening, just thinking of Potter and where he's going to head to next. _To his insolent girlfriend, _a bitter voice seethes, making me shudder at the thought.

"Saw you looking pretty dazed too. What were you looking at?"

I was noticed? "Nothing interesting." _---that you would like to know anyway. _I increase my pace.

Potter isn't completely straight, is he? He isn't. He can't be.

Can he?

All the thinking almost runs me into a wall. It runs me into Blaise. He narrows his eyes. "I saw you..." he begins. The moment dies when Pansy steps inbetween us.

_You saw me what?_

"Have I ever told you how much I HATE Granger?" she exclaims in a shrill remark. Blaise heads off into another direction.

"More than enough times," I reply her. With my wand clasped tightly in my fist, I'm just about ready to zap her into oblivion. _Saw me WHAT? _I think in frustration. I pray deep in my heart that Blaise didn't see me concentrating on Potter instead of the lesson.

In fact, when Potter walks slowly in the hall in my direction, my attention bolts to him. He's alone, trying hard to avert his eyes (but to no avail) from me. What I hope will make him frown is the sudden smile I fake to Pansy. "I do suppose I've got _some _spare time to listen."

"I feel a scheme boiling up, you know?" she says, and she starts to walk. I automatically follow. Since when am I a follower? I've forgotten that Goyle was following me. He's disappeared.

"At the same time, I guess you could dish some dirt on Harry Potter."

"What dirt is there to dish? He's clean." Unless you count me as the dirt, then yeah, shovel away.

You know, I only dream about being open to the world with my teenage boy horniness. I honestly wish I could climb atop a grand table and scream my utmost desire for Potter, and all the things I want to do to him, or have him do to me.

As I walk by Pansy's side, I notice people in open grass next to the fountain waving their wands. They've turned the fountain water pink and purple, but the colours don't mingle, just like oil and water. All of them seem to be practicing.

Ah, I see Crabbe and Goyle... with Blaise?

Blaise shrugs and waves his wand. "Confundus!", and he points it to the people revising. I can't stay to see what happens because Pansy yanks my hand to make me keep up. _Well, excellent stuff boys, _I praise with a half-smile.

She stops at a dark corner, discreet enough to be sheltered away from the public eye. Suspicion consumes me.

"I need to talk to you about something," she says softly, "It's important."

"What, you're pregnant or something?"  
Her silence stuns me.  
"...No." She finally answers, not amused. For those two brief seconds, I could've sworn I almost threw up my stomach. "Don't make fun of this, Draco!"

"Ok, ok," I defend with both hands up. "Don't have to be such a nit about it."

"Draco," she sucks in a huge breath, "I really, really, really like you."

_Why am I not surprised?_

"You mean, you could tell?"

_Must have thought of that aloud! Bugger._

"Well, um," I shove my hands into my pockets. The mirror brushes my knuckles and I take them out. I'm reminded of Potter again at the most inopportune times. This is not good. "Pansy, I think everyone can tell. Since Yule Ball, even before that."  
An attractive blush washes over her porcelain features. Can someone un-hex me some Confundus now? I must have been hit, because I just put 'attractive' and 'Pansy' in the same sentence.

"You know and you didn't do anything about it?"

What a fix she's putting me in. If I said yes, she'd never talk to me again. I need her to spite that dark-haired monkey, the challenging git. How dare he try to make Draco Malfoy jealous!

"I knew, but I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure if I was ready or you were ready." Trying to be politically correct is such a difficult feat.

Her eyes brighten and a toothy grin emerges. I feel like yelling, "Nox!", but she isn't even remotely close to being a wand. I believe I just put myself in an unobvious truckload of shit.

Too much to think about, about 'breaking up' with her, about resolving my needs by using that Potter. Sometimes I even wonder... if... if my feelings went any deeper than that.

"So... You're saying... We're together?" She snaps my thought into half.

My mouth opens and closes, and opens again, experiencing this rarity of a loss for words. Before I can reply, she emits a high-pitched noise and runs off.

"...No?"

_It's a little bloody late, isn't that, Malfoy?_

My palm covers my face. No number of Dark Arts Defense lessons is going to save me now.


	29. Harry: UnrestedMe

by Jas  
  
Harry's POV

Things might have been more relaxed if Ron, 'Mione and Ginny didn't keep trying to set our new friend and I up. Not that she was unpleasant or anything. I just wasn't... ready, you would say.

Like how they keep making us get together at some place to study and then one-two-three of them slowly head off somewhere; coming up with some absolutely ridiculous excuses. It was so darn obvious. _We're not stupid, you know_. We do know what you're doing. Still, it was rather amusing.

The first private conversation between us went somewhat like this;

"That person..."

"Huh? What?"

"That boy in Honeydukes - Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" She managed with a hint of dislike.

I nodded slowly; the awkward feeling was ever-present.

"I saw the way he talked to you."

_That I know_. "Oh, that's how we converse. No worries." Well, you seem interested, for one.

"No, there was something in the way he... something in the eyes... you know?"

Wow, even she could tell. _Yes, its hate, I tell you. Hate. I'm sure of it._ But are the feelings mutual? Whatever it is, he started it all. _All of it._

"...Looked like he was hexed or something, I think."

"Ok. Now why would he be in pain?"

She shrugged.

"Oh, I was gripping his wrist... for... um... to get his undivided attention, see. Look, you really don't have to worry over it, that's just him." And I left it there; going over to Ron and 'Mione at the table.

But she, being a girl and all, probes further. Apparently, my side of the story doesn't seem quite enough.

"So, this Malfoy person's been chiding you guys ever since year one?"

_Yes. Now will you be quiet and would someone please change the damn topic?_

Ron starts calling Malfoy a list of things; even I've only heard half of it.

As much as she loathes Malfoy, 'Mione isn't all that pleased, and we're treated to an earful which Mrs Weasley would have been proud of.

_Thank you!_

* * *

Time at night is really in the doldrums; good chance for thinking. No one to disturb me; no one to question me about anything; and I'm beginning to think about a lot of things again. Of which, whether that whole kiss-under-the-invisibility-cloak-thing was really his attempt to shut me up, like the coward claimed. Or, was it something else... something else which I also experience, for example my sudden pulsating heart; a rush of blood and hormones throughout my body, like how it is now.

I know my heart doesn't go _thumpthumpthump_ when I see Ron or Hermione, when I speak to Ron or 'Mione; I don't wish to hide my face when they smile at me. But when it's that ex-arch-enemy-not-exactly-friend of mine, there's a totally different vibe. I cannot comprehend this something-else, yet. And I don't allow myself to acknowledge it... _yet_, I add, myself.

I don't even feel violated, or as violated as I should feel. Maybe I should ask Ron how he'll feel if I suddenly kiss him. But it is not like I've developed feelings for the boy. Yes, I do "love" my friends, but this... he is not even my friend, in the first place.

And besides the whole antagonize-Potter-thing, Malfoy's been acting weird ever since. Sometimes he's quite un-Malfoy-like, and sometimes, the usual. I have a hunch he'll tell me something soon. I've been doing too much thinking these days, and it always leaves me more confused than ever. So maybe I should stop doing that.

But that's exactly what I'm doing now.

_Not helping._

I swear I can't keep this forever. Someone's gotta help me. Obviously _he_ wouldn't, he'll make everything messier than it already is.


	30. Draco: Potions Exploration

by Perr - Helen triggered off a very good feeling inside, so here's Draco's POV bit. I hope it doesn't torture you, the speed of this fic.  
  
Draco's POV

"Potter."  
He turns around. Immediately, he follows me behind a pillar when I gesture.  
"What?"  
I'm a bit taken aback by his straightforwardness, his... _obedience. _Then again, his rudeness in conversation is still intact.  
"Who is she?" I jump straight to my point.  
He frowns. "Why do you want to know?"  
"Because it matters!" _Because it matters that she's above me!_ "Because... maybe I just feel..." Something lights up in his eyes. "...maybe I feel that it's important for me to know the people in your life so I can ruin it." I pause, then nod at how fantastic I really am to be able to pull things like these really well. "Yeah. I mean, everyone wants to, I might as well join in the fun!"  
There is a grim look on his face. "Stop it, then. I don't need anymore of this---"  
He takes a step closer. "---messed up---"  
Another step makes him almost able to breathe into me. "---shit." I certainly wish that I could kiss him again at this moment, as my breath hitches in my throat. My eyes can't tear away from his mouth. What's it like to taste it again?  
Stop, Draco. Stop.  
Potter hesitates a moment. His lashes slump in a millisecond and the faintest sign of a smile appears. "You want to kiss me," he says.  
"You want to kiss me too," I reply, surprised at the mysterious gleam in his eye.  
"Doesn't the entire school want to?"  
The heat from his faces reaches out to mine. "Especially you, Potter."  
"What about Pansy?"  
"I guess I can fill you into my schedule somewhere..."  
His expression changes. "Word's gotten around that you're together." I shrug.  
"I've got a class to attend now. Maybe I might consider wasting away my life by speaking to you later. That is, if that lowly bitch isn't all over you."  
"She's not a bitch!" He steps further away and folds him arms. "Jealous, Malfoy?"  
"We've been through this before."  
"Come on! Anyway, I don't swing that way. Never did, never will."  
"Never say never, you bint."  
I turn and walk away.

"You're not supposed to put in the newt's eye yet!" Crabbe scolds Goyle.  
This is my effort to pull up my grades. Thankfully, this project was addressed solely to me.  
"_Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape had said, "You are one of the select few that have been assigned to this task." I remember feeling very uncomfortable sitting alone by myself after Potions class. Why me?, I thought.__  
"You are to create something entirely new from mundane material. That means you can play inventor for the time being," he said, pacing to and fro in front of the table I sat at. "We'll give you the material."__  
I've heard of the projects they've done. Some of them earned fortunes from their creations, while others had lost a few of their essential body parts. Two years ago, the key ingredient happened to be licorice and someone turned them into a living mass of tentacles. One of them jabbed him in the eye._  
"You've got six months to finish it. If you don't complete it, be sure that your grades will plummet. Don't you dare disappoint the Slytherin House, Malfoy."  
The supposed ordinary ingredient this year happens to be sand.  
Sand which I now let slip through my fingers. Fine silken sand that I hardly know what to do with.  
I'll never pass Potions now.  
Pansy comes around to offer her help. I brush her off and think hard. Alright, I'll think of a weapon. I'll make sand into a weapon, to use against Potter, to use against that girl he's spending all his time with.  
How?  
Sand bombs? Sand blades? Sand smoke? How will I make it happen? Not all spells are chanted in Latin. Ok, most of them are in Latin. But there are some in Greek and Hebrew too, some even in English, and I don't know what the hell to do.  
Stupid teachers. Stupid Ministry! They just want to exploit students everywhere, I'm sure of it. I can't think.  
I can never think when his face is in my mind. Someone should slap MY face!  
What we spoke about is now replaying in my head. Ok, I know, I want to do this even more for Potter. I'm making a weapon to use against Potter and that girl. Keep reminding myself of it.  
Pansy bothers me again. She tries to squeeze into a space between Crabbe and I, and---  
"Hey!"  
Opaque, sickly green fluid splatters onto the sand sample. With a hiss, the affected parts darken and clump together. I let out an exasperated, "Shit!"  
Pansy extends a pale finger to right her wrong. When she does, she shrieks and sticks her index into her mouth.  
I grab a glass rod and prod the accident.  
"It's becoming shorter!" Crabbe says.  
"Shut up, I can see that!"  
I push the rod into the sand. It crumbles and cracks, disintegrating into powder.  
A call of "whoa" sounds behind me. "What did you put in that thing?!"  
"A few things," Crabbe says.  
Goyle takes out a sickle and pushes it into my experiment. Dust.  
I stare at the mess.  
"Tell me everything," I demand.

Because I may be able to nab Potter with it... and be rid of that girl too.


	31. Harry: Almost

by Jas - If you don't like the fic, that's your business. We're writing for ourselves and for those who do seem to like it. Thanks to those by the way, who dropped by for a little constructiveness, and encouragement. Thanks to those who just increased the review number by one (aka, meaningless). We'll try to take whatever you've said into consideration. And Perr definitely is dying of the lack of non-kissing too. xS  
  
Harry's POV

Potions classes have become increasingly draggy. I did think that I could drop this damned subject for good at the end of year 5. But no, Hermione had to do such a good job of persuading me to keep it; much to the disbelief of Snape. But certainly not delight. Actually, Potions wasn't so bad. If we could have a more unbiased, less greasy-haired, hooked-nose teacher... ok, so the hair and nose part are not exactly relevant in this argument. _Some girl from Ravenclaw even thought he was sexy._ Or even with the help of a tutor perhaps, I might be doing better. The possibilities!

This being the second slot of Potions, and I've already lost my house something close to 30 points, which was nothing surprising.

The sallow-faced teacher saunters over to my table. "Potter..." the man utters. "If you don't start doing something about your Potions grade, I'm afraid _I_ shall have to do something about it." I continue giving him a look of apathy. "Perhaps Professor McGonagall should be informed about your past few practical grades..." he adds with a sneer. A few Slytherins chuckle at this. He nods towards Neville, "Same goes to you as well."

Well, if he hadn't been_ evanesco_-ing my cauldron every class this week... _Stupid git._ He might as well tell Crabbe and Goyle too. It's not like their concoctions were ever similar to his. And I don't see him clearing _their_ cauldrons.

Ron shoots me a sympathetic look. He imitates Snape nagging at Neville and me... "Mr Weasley. 25 points off for impudence." Snape barks with utmost annoyance. _Shit_. I raise my brows at Ron. _Tough luck._ Guess we'll all just have to be content with silent mockery of the professor.

* * *

After last night, I've come to a conclusion, which I think is fucking ludicrous. _Draco Malfoy is bisexual_. Either that or he's trying to get me to say that I am homosexual, and then what? Tell the whole world? Seems entirely possible; entirely Malfoy-ish. That had to be it. But I do find him quite a looker, even though I hate to admit it. And that is entirely Malfoy-ish as well.

As for myself, I don't think I'm that different now. I'm not exactly homosexual though. Guess I'm bisexual myself then. _Am I, really?_ I also do want to know why he would think that I'm not straight in the first place.

I also think that it's about time I told Ron about this. Perhaps he may be able to help me sort this out. I do hope he takes it well. Don't think I will be letting Hermione in on this yet. I can just imagine what she'll say, or what she'll do; over-react and all that nonsense. Nevertheless, she _is_ looking out for me; can't blame her for that.

* * *

It's sometime during midday; I'm walking to my next class. I am a bit early, so I can afford to take a stroll, or 'strut as if I own the place' as Snape would call it. My two best friends are not with me because they have Prefect duty. Sometimes I wonder if it's a good thing that I wasn't chosen as a Prefect. I am not the only one in the hall; many students are walking in all directions.

I question again, what I'll be doing when I graduate from Hogwarts. _One of those absolutely random thoughts._

Amidst the chatter of students, someone calls my name from behind. I come to an abrupt halt. It's the blond boy. We argue a bit over Alexis. _Like he cares_.

He says "Because it matters! Because... maybe I just feel...

"...maybe I feel that it's important for me to know the people in your life so I can ruin it."

_Nothing new there._ Just that, it doesn't make sense. He didn't have to tell me was going to mess it up. He never did anyway. He was jumping from evident concern, something out of his league, to his usual Malfoy-self. Subtle clues, subtle clues.

He is standing in front of me. We are hidden from the rest of the students by this pillar. And what if I closed the gap between us? It is... _tempting_.

I do move very much closer towards him. I'll say a bit too close, than I had intended. I end up saying something very silly, which is, "You want to kiss me." _Oh no, this is not happening._

I half expect him to spit in my face. He replies with a curt, "You want to kiss me too." And because I'm so close, I think I can hear his heartbeat. Or at least his breathing is nothing regular. I'm a tad bit surprised at this. I am now trying my best to block out some thoughts. _Oh, the possibilities!_

He doesn't dare look me in the eye, whereas I cannot look elsewhere. I blurt out something I think shouldn't; basically telling him indirectly that I'm not straight. "Doesn't the entire school want to?" _Yes, they do._

_Danger zone, Harry - change topic!_ I remember overhearing a group of girls talking about him and Pansy. This punctures the little bubble swelling inside earlier on. I mean, Pansy's been at this for years now, so it shouldn't count as a surprise.

I should take a stand; tell him I'm no homosexual, now that he may think otherwise. "...I don't swing that way. Never did, never will."

"Never say never, you bint." He walks away, he doesn't seem too satisfied.

Hmm. _Something new there, definitely._


	32. Draco: Mind Me, Part One

by Perr - Harry (or Jas), you simply drive me nuts sometimes. :) Part One of two back-to-back Draco bits. I thank you all for following us through 31 chapters, it must be harder reading them than writing them. :P  
  
Draco's POV

My aching head.

I have nothing to look forward to. What is there, really, to look forward to, that doesn't already make my life as miserable as it is?

I'm supposed to pay for all the material that I've turned to dust and ashes, but fortunately, Professor Snape's got his ways and means to let me slip from the bills.

It took magic gloves and a marble tray to remove the mess I had made the other time. A dark patch now resides where the accident once was. At the moment, the mixture I'm currently making, that included billywig stings and ashwinder eggs, emits a harsh, sharp smell of leaves and spice.

Add two tablespoons of water and...

A cup full of fine-grain sand poured into the shapely potion bottle, shaking after that, completes my experiment. Now to see if it works right.

If bastard Potter won't be mine, he won't be anyone else's. The thin neck seems to fit perfectly in my fingers as I look through the thick glass base at the pale green grains.

Something tells me that as much words my mind processes and as much plans I scheme against that boy, my heart won't let my body hurt him.

Malfoy: Bad Faith. So much inner-conflict.

Stupid names.

* * *

It's starting to get cold. My vest feels scratchy from the outside of my shirt, and my tie twists in such a way that it leaves a long, awkward bump on the grey vest. I didn't dress myself properly this morning.

It's early, it's dreadfully early.

I mutter a spell and wave my wand to neaten my appearance. The bottle is kept safely within my cloak. I must now think of how I should greet him.

Hold on, I'm Draco, suave and smooth and completely not needing any practice. _Gods, he makes me so uneasy._ That tells you something.

A long time later, I wander a bit, around the Gryffindor area, greeting some hurried Professors and a very elated-looking Professor Flitwick. Nobody's going to be preparing for classes, and I wonder why nobody minds my aimless walking. _McGonagall would though, if she sees me,_ I correct myself with an irritated sigh. It washes away the silence of the halls.

...What is that tapping?

_Tap-tap._

I turn around and there is nothing but a long hallway. When I resume my steps, it starts again.

_Tap-tap-tap-tap---_

"Locomotor Mortis!"

There's a harsh gasp, and then somebody falls from a space behind a pillar with a loud thump.

It's Blaise.

I take huge strides towards him. "Spying on me, are you?"

"You know I would _never_---"

"Yeah, sure. And Dumbledore descended from a school of ancient fish," I squat and take him by the tie. "What are you doing following me around?"

He keeps quiet for a bit. "...You're up to something, aren't you? Always wandering around at night, making eyes at everyone, talking to strange things in the Commonroom..."

"What business have you with me, then?" I say. "You should be minding your own goddamned business!"

Blaise bites his lip. "I'll tell the Professor of the things that you've been doing."

"Oh yeah? What things _have I _been doing?" He glares because he doesn't know. I hope.

"If I tell you, I'll tell the entire school. You'll get kicked out."

I give him a hard smack to the side of his head. "Think up of a better excuse. Besides, who's everyone going to believe, Malfoy the prefect, or Zabini the stalker?"

"You have no prefect badge!"

"It's only a matter of time before I get it back." I stand. "Find yourself something else to do. If I ever find you again... You're dead." A_nd I certainly mean it._

"You can't threaten me," he says. Will he ever shut up?!

"I just did! You're worse than Goyle! I'm good at it anyway." I spin on my heel and decide to resume my wandering.

"But we're Slytherin. You can't leave me here like this with my knees locked together!" Something softens in my heart. He's right. And annoying.

"Finite Incantatem."

He scrambles to his feet and runs away. "Deletrius," I mutter. My wand is going to be checked later, I bet.

But before that, later brings me to a corridor where I spot Potter. People are heading for breakfast, and so is he.

"Hey, Potter!"

His head snaps to me. He looks surprised. _You'd better be. I hate you so much for making me feel this way._ The anger rising makes me reach into my cloak. I throw it out at him and---

It bounces off his forehead with a loud, _thip._

"_Ow! _What the fuck?! I thought we had a truce!" he cries out, holding his head. The bottle spins on the ground.

What the SOD.

I pick it up and knock it on the floor, harder and harder each time. Soon, I'm beating the paint off the pillars with it. "What?"

"It's enchanted," he says grumpily, taking it from my hand. "What the hell were you _thinking?! _Are you trying to fucking kill me?"

I stare at him for a brief moment and watch the skin on his forehead redden. The hate starts to melt away when I begin to think, _Maybe I should kiss it better..._

_Thip!_

A hard ache throbs at the back of my head, inches from my ear. The hate boils again. "What the fuck was THAT for?!" I shoot the deadliest stare. "OW!"

"For giving me a bruise tomorrow morning, that's what!"

I become a bit fed up. "Hold out your hand." I'm going to do this manually, then. He stupidly obeys. I uncork the bottle and let the sand run onto his palm.

A stupid grin he tries to hold back appears. He looks very good. "What on earth, do you think you're doing?" Written on his face is 'You are so weird'.

"It doesn't hurt?"

"No."

"Not even a _little?"_

"Of course not!" _You're making yourself look like a fool, Draco,_ I tell myself. I pour it onto my own hand. Nothing. **Nothing.**

This is horribly frustrating and embarrassing.

"Malfoy, I'm getting hungry. I'll be off. And I forgive you about the bruise."

I did not fucking apologise!

"For the first time the entire year, I'm the one to watch him walk away. Gods, he makes me uneasy.

On the other hand, I flee from the scene and check up on the problems in my experiments. Maybe it screwed up because I was thinking about him too much. But how can I not think about him? He's always there. He can't even show me how he feels about me. I am very annoyed. But he still remains on my shaglist, hmm.

It's best that I should kill the girl first then.

I hate being so fantastic sometimes.


	33. Draco: Mind Me, Part Two

by Perr - sex is mentioned 24 times here, if I counted right. I'm not a mathematician. Don't hate me for writing this. I promised a part two, here it is.

Draco's POV

I am helpless. My mind is falling apart.

When those jolly editors of feminist women's magazines said that men think of sex all the time, I prove to you that I bring new life to the phrase 'every six seconds'.

During Divinations. Trelawny had looked into my pearldust seashell whirl patterns and exclaimed, "Oh my!" She patted my shoulder and murmured, "Lay off the oysters for a while, boy."

Oysters?!

During Potions, I could not stop thinking about sex. Any kind of sex. So much sex that it would make porn barons blush. Heterosexual sex. Homosexual sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. Snape cast glances at my constant shifting in my seat. I curled my toes in my shoes, raising my hands to my head, threaded fingers into locks, and never looked at the teacher again.

During Transfigurations. _He_ was there. I was still engaged in embarrassing gutter-brain thought. Gods. Anal sex. Oral sex. Impossible sex. Possible sex. Hot sex. Mind-blowing sex. Noisy sex. Sexy sex. "HELP!" I could have screamed, but didn't.

And all this time these sex-filled thoughts were made of _he_ and I. I mean, I was staring at his jet-black, raven-black, whatever-black hair, and I was thinking about blowjobs in the Maldives. S-E-X.

Maybe it's a point of time when every seventeen year-old comes to terms with his sexuality, and wants to do it so much that he won't be able to move any muscle for the next week. Despite sleeping with just two girls in my entire life, I'm pretty much sex god of Hogwarts.

Now I look at him over dinner, and visualise many, many things. It's like a mosquito I can't bloody swat. Food sex slowly creeps into the filth that is my mind, and I find that my pants seem a little tighter than before.

If I could just leap across the table and kiss him to death, maybe all this sad 'I'm so horny' business will finally clear up. But no, I can't possibly cross the Hall to do that, can I? I can't even look at him without having people thinking I'm going to duel him again.

This makes the scene weird; Potter's girl is looking at him, and he's throwing glances toward me, and I'm staring at him (in the most unobvious manner I can manage), while I can sense Pansy eyeing me up as well. I wonder if all this intense gazing upon does anyone any good. Perhaps it'll be strong enough to Potter's and my clothes burn up or wither away, so we can do it right here right now.

Control yourself, Draco.

This is horrible. I must have a large tumour in my brain, and it's expanding the 'sex' part of my mind. This is a crime!

It's a while when I realise that Goyle's hand starts waving in front of me. "Are you ok?"

"Mmmhmm," I shift and snap out of it. This is torture. I might stand up and yell, "Torture, Potter is thy name," if it weren't for some sense left in me. He is slowly driving out all the sanity inside.

Pansy's switched places with Crabbe because she's hoping she can get a 'couple' image out of she and I. I play along only because Harry is watching and I have a certain reputation to uphold in the eyes of my Slytherin mates.

She passes me a shy smile. I smile back. Something disturbing crawls up my spine. Wait, those are her fingers at the fabric of my cloak.

Maybe it's out of desperation to relieve myself of some tension. Maybe it's a sorry attempt to claim Potter's mind for the entire week. There will definitely be talk among Pansy and her friends.

I take her hand and lead her out of the Hall. My back facing the entrance with a final glance to Harry, we disappear and quietly slip into a room. I drop my cloak to the floor, lift her chin up and kiss her. Some tension drains, but it's a different sort altogether; not the kind that I've been holding inside for ages.

By the time I notice the hand behind my head and the heat of kisses bruising my lips, all the voices, all the conscience, all the rationality dissipates into nothing after a final thought:

_Potter, this is what you do to me._


	34. Harry: Balls and Bottles

by Jas

Harry's POV

It's a new day of a new month; aspiring Seers gather early in the morning and foresee everyone's future, for the month. I've heard that they would pen their predictions on parchment and sell them. Not that I'll buy them at all. Quoting Lavender Brown yesterday, "_You should take precaution, Harry_" when she was trying to get me interested in her divination. What absolute moonshine. _Sorry, Lavender, but I refuse to accept what that nincompoop teaches._ I bet Ron could have come up something like that too. Something like

..._Because Mercury and Neptune are directly across each other later on this month, I will suffer, _as usual,_ and then there will be trouble, a few changes here and there, and blah, blah, blah._ I never believed in the subject, never will either.

Speaking of my good friend Ron, I haven't really had the chance of seeking his help. It's not very reasonable that the Prefects are busy now that it's Christmas month. It's only the beginning of December! Teachers and Prefects have been tight-lipped about it. I'm surprised Professor Flitwick hasn't already told someone yet. Ginny claims that it's got to do with what Dumbledore has in store or something like that. Said she managed to force it out of her brother. So why's it those fortune-tellers don't already know?

I enter the Common Room, which is already in a very noisy state, even though it's still early. This sure isn't normal. I walk over to Ginny and Alexis, "Hey, what's the occasion?"

"Harry! Where were-- It's a ball, it's a ball!"

"Anyone care to further explain?"

"Oh, you know the thing Dumbledore's been planning?!"

I nod slowly; it's scary when girls are all so thrilled about something. And since nothing much makes sense now, it's better to agree with them first.

The pieces of information start to click together slowly. "Oh... sorry," I offer a weak grin. The only reason I can't think straight now, is that it's still quite early, and I was up waiting for Ron to come back. Apparently, he and Hermione had a little midnight rendezvous. Don't ask how I knew.

There certainly is something with girls and balls, because they seem really excited about it. I do hope it'll turn out better than the Yule Ball anyway. I thought that was quite a drag. _And I don't dance_.

"Who told you this?"

"Oh, the Divination students told us."

_What divine shit, then_. I smirk.

"What's so funny, Harry?"

Someone taps my shoulder and I'm saved from answering this question. It's Parvati Patil. She doesn't say anything till I ask her, "What is it?"

She hands me a roll of parchment, "Here's yours, Harry."

"But I don't--"

"No, it's Christmas month, we insist."

I really don't want this, but take the parchment from her anyway. This may be worth some entertainment.

* * *

"Hey, Potter!" Familiar voice, that one.

_Malfoy. Who I could've so solemnly sworn wanted..., I'm not too sure about this._

He brings out this blackish, round-bottomed bottle, and flings it across the hallway. The bottle travels in slow motion. I see it spin; its contents being tossed about madly inside... _I should dodge now_

_**OW.** WhatthefuckWhatthefuckWhatthefuckWhatthefuckWHATTHEFUCK?_

It's odd that I did not move one bit. I am a Seeker with a Firebolt; the bottle should have shattered on the ground. But it landed hard on my head, very hard, probably enough to knock me out.

_What the fuck?! _

That was _not_ even remotely funny; but he's not laughing. He doesn't even look pleased. Except, he looks bewildered. _He's cracked!_ He'd better have a good explanation for this.

The silly boy doesn't realise that it's one of those magical bottles, and starts whacking it on every available hard surface. Thank God no one's around! But if he keeps up with this racket, people are going to burst out of the Hall soon enough.

"What the hell were you _thinking?! _Are you trying to fucking kill me?" He doesn't answer me. _I guess he was trying to fucking kill me._

I take the bottle out from his hand, and still he's not responding. Maybe I could make him snap out of whatever it is by doing this...

_Thip!_

"What the fuck was THAT for?!" he says, sending a death glare spinning into me. "OW!"

"For giving me a bruise tomorrow morning, that's what!" _I know I don't make much of an effort to look bloody terrific but I don't want something else on my forehead that other people can gawk at! The scar's quite enough!_

He decides to uncork the bottle and show me its contents – which is sand. Smooth, cool sand, which collects on my hand. _He's definitely cracked. _

Well Malfoy, I'm sorry that your murder attempt failed. Something evidently is supposed to happen. Maybe I should _forgive_ him. Yes, that would crush him a bit. "...I forgive you about the bruise." And I leave him in the corridor.

I'm quite certain I'm not getting my explanation anytime soon.

People look up when I enter the Hall, which is only habitual. Still, I do hope that they didn't hear anything. I reach up to flatten my fringe, walking quickly to the table to where my friends were seated... _still smarting_. These are the times when I wish my hair would stay flat instead of sticking out everywhere. I wish they were long enough to cover my forehead at least.

"What the HELL happened?!" Hermione demands when I sit down.

"'Mione, not here, please."

"But that!" She points to my head.

I move her finger away, "Please?"

"Fine, but you _better_ tell me what's been going on, Harry." And she continues to slice her toast.

I eye Ron, who raises his brow. His girlfriend must have said whatever he wanted to say too. I wonder how he'll take it when I tell him, which will be soon enough.


	35. Harry: Confessions

by Jas- From Perr: There will be no updates for the next two weeks or so, because Jas and I have exams to take. But do check back in case I feel like submitting something. Thanks for the support, we appreciate it. All we want to know is whether people are reading this.

Harry's POV

I don't know if it's just me or if it's the weather. But I can sense that someone is watching me. It's not that I've become paranoid, because I see Hermione staring when I look up. She has a frown on her face, which probably means that she knows I'm not telling her something. No, I will tell her _something_, but not everything. It's still difficult, it is. And it doesn't help that she's my best friend.

Throughout transfigurations, I sense that same vibe. I steal a look at the Professor; who is not looking in my direction at all. So it must be Hermione again. I won't bother to turn around and check. Feeling particularly hungry, I look forward to dinner. I didn't eat much for lunch because I didn't have much of an appetite then.

We return to the Tower for the short break. I run up to the empty Boys' Dorm and collapse on my bed, throwing my bag and books at the base. Another two sets of footsteps come up the stairs slowly. I lay still as I anticipate Ron and Hermione to sit on my bed. But that doesn't happen. Instead, its two male voices I hear. Both of which are familiar, of course. One voice says, "You don't suppose what they say is true?"

"Nah. Highly unlikely..."

I turn and face the door just as the two walk in. "Oh, hey, Harry." It's Seamus and Dean.

"You look dead beat, for one."

I bury my face into my snug pillow. "Dead beat I am."

"Quidditch, huh?"

I don't answer him. Quidditch these days have been sloppy. Seamus, the new captain wasn't around much, because he had extra Herbalogy lessons. And the rest of the team's been coming down sick, much thanks to the rain, which was a change from the previous hot weather. So it was mostly just me flying alone, looking for the Snitch. I don't know why I even bother turning up for practice then.

"You won't believe what people are saying," says Dean.

"People say the funniest things." I reply.

"And people do the funniest things," answers a female voice.

"Hello Hermione." I managed, without moving.

"And I was wondering if you had died on your bed."

"Ha ha, very funny. Where's Ron?"

"Attending to something... Look, I know we haven't exactly been around recently, but it's not our fault that Dumbledore planned a surprise and wants us to start on it so early." I feel my bed sink a little, under her weight.

"Ronald Weasley is here," announces Ron, who just pops in. "What's this? No fret, Harry, it's not a Ball. I hope you know that."

_That wasn't really the point, Ron,_ "Yup."

"Come on, Harry. We're alone now, so get out from under there. We want to look at you." says Hermione.

I shift slightly, so that my friends can see my face. Dean and Seamus must have slipped out some time ago. "So, what happened?" Ron asks; he looks very concerned.

I gaze at the stool in front of his bed for a long time, before saying, "It's nothing... I... wasn't careful." I believe the spot where Malfoy hit me has turned greenish.

"Oh, come off it, Harry! It's Malfoy, isn't it? I'm really surprised that you would choose to defend him." She seems fairly upset and runs off before I can even say anything else.

We both stare at the door, I feel really bad. "It's not that I don't _want_ to tell her, Ron."

"Oh yeah? And why not?"

"Ron, you have no idea... I just can't tell her, as yet."

"First you act weird; you can't sleep well; and injuries start appearing on you. Now you're keeping things to yourself. Are you even going to tell me what's going on?" he crosses his arms, clearly a bit angry.

"I am, in fact. I am going to tell you."

"So you didn't forget your friend," he adds sarcastically.

This is not how I want to start things. "Will it help if I told you that I got my second kiss?"

He did appear a little more interested, "You kissed someone? Who?"

"Actually, someone kissed _me_. Ok, it was an accident. But before I tell you any of that, you're going to listen to me."

He looks at me silently.

"Remember that pair of two-way mirror I bought a few months ago? Well, I gave one to Malfoy."

"You what?!"

"Let me finish. I gave one to him to see if we could resolve the bad blood between us."

"When was this?"

"A few months ago."

"And _now_ you tell me?"

"Well, this thing _is_ between him and me. I didn't want to get you both involved."

He stays quiet again.

"We agreed on a truce and things have gotten a little more complicated, since. Like... he was the one who kissed me."

"Malfoy's gay?" Ron's eyes couldn't grow bigger.

"No, he's not... not entirely, at least."

"Oh, this _is_ news!"

"Ron, the thing is, I think I'm bisexual."

He doesn't respond. "Ron?"

"Why? How do you know?"

"I'm not stupid, I know."

"Why couldn't you choose me or someone else?"

"What? You _did not_ just say that."

"_NO_, no, no. I mean, of all people, Malfoy? After all he's done to us? To you? I'm your friend, at least. Have you gone nuts, Harry? Is this because of Hermione and I getting together? Are you not ok with it? I could always--"

"It's not because of you two! It's good that you're together. Have I not already said that? Look, Ron. It's difficult as it is. Please don't make it harder for me." I plead, knowing that I could break down in front of him anytime now.

"What about Alexis?"

"What about her? She's not my girlfriend."

"She's not? Damned, you had us fooled."

"What do you mean, 'us'?"

"Practically everyone."

"Why? Because we hang out together often? Ron, have you forgotten that my two companions are not around me these few days?"

He grins sheepishly. "Well then, what about the fight?"

"I don't know what that was about. Guess he sort of missed it." _I really didn't know._

"Are you still going to tell me about that?" he points to my forehead.

"Oh, right. He threw this enchanted bottle at my head."

"What for?"

"I don't know. Apparently, he didn't know it was enchanted. Wasn't too happy about that. Something was supposed to happen, I guess. Ron, I know you're with Hermione and all, but you're not going to tell her all this, alright?"

He sighed, "Alright. But you will tell her, won't you?"

"Sometime later, perhaps."

"So, are you still enemies?"

I don't know if Hermione's forgiven me yet. I mean, I haven't seen her around at all since then; must have disappeared to the Library. I spot her at the dinner table. She's sort of alone, because Ron's not there. I hope he's not avoiding me or something. I decide to sit with her anyway.

_Roasted chicken, beef, mashed potatoes; chocolate pudding_... dinner seems good. It's even better when Draco Malfoy was sitting opposite... but he's not there. I scan the Slytherin table. He's missing.

Hermione follows my gaze and without even looking at me, says out loud, "You don't have to worry. I took care of the matter."

"What do you mean 'you took care of the matter'?" I reply, in a tone a bit harsh.

Still looking past me, she says, "I know you refuse to tell me anything, but I kind of figured things out. Told him to stop doing whatever he was doing to you; told him to go away. The detested little..."

"Hermione! This does not concern you!" Dinner has lost its appeal, and I run off to find him, without looking back. I forgot to add an, "I'll explain later"; this is not good. And it's definitely _not_ how to treat your best mate.


	36. Draco: Dungeon Acquaintance

by Perr - Frustration is in the air, no?

Draco's POV

Sand melts into a watery concoction, then evaporates into an orange mist. Why can I not get this right? I frown and stare at my recordings. Everything is exactly what it's supposed to be, but every result has different observations, different effects. The previous one turned black, jumped up and ate a conical flask. I'm horrible tired of this. I shove all the glasses and bottles of sand and potions aside, and rest my head in the well of relief that is my arms on the table.

This must be a sign that I'm not supposed to kill anyone just yet. But I hate seeing them together. Why? Why do I have to worry like this?

The thinking makes a large lump grow in my throat. I am disgusted by all this lust, yet I cannot help myself. Maybe I should take a short break.

* * *

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is not a break. Breaks are supposed to refresh your mind. Let you have some quality time to rejuvenate. As I hear my name being called again, my brain fizzles out the rational part of itself.

"Oi! Malfoy!"

When I turn around, surprisingly, it's Mudblood who approaches. She doesn't look all that happy. "You're despicable!" she says, and then I realise that I'm in for a lot of shit.

"What?" is my reply to that. She's got some nerve to thrust a finger into my shoulder quite painfully, before saying, "Stop doing whatever you're doing to Harry!"

The words turn a few heads. "I'm not doing anything to him!" I whisper harshly, trying very hard to hint to her to keep it down. Obviously, she doesn't care.

"You dare try to attack him yesterday, and act like nothing's happened today? You scoundrel, slimeball---"

"Stop! Granger, shut your bloody mouth!" I resist a very strong urge to grab her by the collar. Girl or not, she has not a single right to do this to me. "What did he tell you?"

"Not much," she snaps, "but I know you caused that awful bruise on his head! He refused to tell me anything about whatever that's been happening."

Potter has a heart of gold after all.

"All he said was that you were bothering him with all sorts of nonsense and I want you to stop it!"

I let out a heavy sigh. "He told you so you could be sent here to chase me away, huh?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Right, nasty ferret boy never tells his secrets to anyone. Please, Malfoy, the way you act around everyone, I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't any real friends about yourself."

Ow. That bloody, fucking hurt.

"Miss Granger, I do not expect you to be saying such hurtful words to anyone!" a voice behind her sounds.

"Professor McGonagall, but, he deserves every word!" she defends. I run my hands through my hair. The Professor shakes her head.

"Five points, Miss Granger, for displaying such disrespectful behaviour as a prefect." She leaves as quickly as she came, leaving no room for any 'but's.

As for my own farewell, I stare at her, still feeling the sting of words. "You know nothing but your textbooks and notes, Granger. You know nothing about the things to do with my life, or Harry's life."

When I leave, I realise that I had called him by first name, and how much closer I am to fully expressing my feelings for him to everyone else.

* * *

By the time I feel that it's alright for me to go back to my experiment (which is actually during my dinner), another surge of irritation rip-roars through my body. Someone's cleared all my things, and my notes have been gathered in an untidy stack. I sit at the table and start over again, but this time, I bring a cauldron to the stool. Time for another fantastic session of mistakes.

Speaking of mistakes...

My sole, ultimate mistake pops his head out from behind the dungeon's open doors. "What do you want?" I manage with the coldest tone, while I drip bit by bit a dropper full of purple liquid into the thick, green gop in my cauldron.

"I'm visiting," he replies simply. "Unless you want me to leave."

_No, stay,_ I think, but remain silent. _Stay with me._

He comes around to my side, then peers into the pot of dark green. "I came to say sorry. About Hermione. She told me everything that's happened, and I honestly am sorry for how she behaved. She isn't one to mince her words."

"Look, you don't have to apologise for her. She can do it herself." I begin to stir the mixture. The metal rod hardly budges. "But you're not really down here for that, are you?" _You're here to see me._ At that moment, he blushes, so much that his cheeks are red as beet. "Potter, I've given up trying to kill you. I don't quite understand why, after everything we've been through, you still do things like these. Bicker with me, come to see me, just being able to be where I am. Are things really so coincidental?"

"Yes, they are." I am at a loss for words for a second.

"Why do you still hang about that girl?" I push again, both the rod and the subject. This thing I'm making is thick. "You can't have everything at once."

Suddenly, the air about us changes and it isn't as pleasant anymore. He clearly doesn't want to talk about she and I at the same time. "I'm not like that, Malfoy. I've got every right to be with a girl. Whoever I like."

He steps forward so he's beside me, then his hands extend and grip the rod too. We push together, but with much difficulty. At least it's moving, at least we're stirring, and I'm getting somewhere.

"What's this for?" he asks, eyeing the experiment.

"An assignment, a project. I was chosen to do it." I pause. "I'm sorry about the injury." _I hope it knocked some homosexual sense into you!_ "Look, you don't have to help."

"You may not want the help, but you definitely need it."

This comment makes me quite mad. I let go of the rod and he stumbles forward a bit. "Potter, I really CAN'T stand you! First you come down to bother me, then you act like a saint, trying to make things better, and then you patronise me!" My voice may be a bit loud for this.

"I never bother about you and Pansy! Why do you have to keep bugging me about Alexis?"

"You know," I ignore, "Just because you're the boy who lived doesn't mean that you're better than me. It just makes you luckier than me." I gesture to the cauldron. "I mean, Potter, I think all that Gryffindor pride's gone right up to your head. It doesn't make me---"

"Stop talking."

I shut up immediately, but I'm under no Imperius Curse, that's for sure. This silence makes me realise. _Oh my goodness, the both of us are alone in the dungeon, and he's right in front of me, and this is such an opportunity that's presenting itself..._

I find myself moving closer to him, finding that the skin I've bruised isn't well-kissed enough, helplessly pushing my hands into his cloak, entering the back pockets then pulling him forward...

_He's got such long lashes,_ I think. His fingers dance about my neck and move to touch my lower lip. I don't understand how he can be _straight_. I think my hands are working their own rhythm, and a long sigh leaves his own lips, those that looks so pleasing, taste so good. I lean in a little closer to see if I can have a second taste...

"Ay, Harry! I heard you were---"

_Fuck!_ I feel like screaming, pulling my hands from his trousers in lightning speed and fixing them onto the rod in the cauldron. Potter's cloak billows a bit at my removal, and thankfully, he feels very disappointed, telling from his face. His arms are folded tightly, and he faces the door---

---as WEASLEY walks in.

_Curse those bloody redheads. **Curse. Them.**_

As Potter and I try to normal our breathing rates, Weasley throws the both of us a horrified, yet suspicious look. "---down here..." he trails, "...What are you doing down here anyway?"

"We had a talk," Potter answers.

Which is the truth, actually.

"I think we'd better leave," Weasel insists.

"I was just about to."

_Yeah right, _I think in my heart. It's also somewhat written on the intruder's face. There is a moment where all three of us stop to breathe, then the other two take their leave, leaving me with a rod that's so hard to push, why the fuck is it so hard, I can't believe I have to deal with a hard rod---

Hmm. I should stop thinking.

How am I supposed to rest when people are making so much commotion outside? I swear, I'm going to be an insomniac at this rate.

My room is empty, all except for myself. Crabbe and Goyle have joined in the ruckus outside, I suppose. I'm about to sleep when something hot burns in my pocket, and I remember, it's that blasted Mirror!

I whip it out and snap, "LET ME SLEEP. YOU ARE TRYING TO KILL ME, POTTER!"

"Is that all you care about?" he says. "Beauty sleep?"

"I do have to put in some sort of effort to look good."

"We need to talk."

"Aren't we doing that now?"

"Look, you needn't always try to tell me that I'm... gay. Because I'm not. Alexis and I---"

"Alexis and you, what? Do you think I'd give a fuck? Don't lie to yourself. The both of us know that we're meant to be in each other's hearts. And beds," I add carefully. _If he wants to talk, I'll give him honesty._

"Stop doing this!" he says with a little bit of acidity. "Stop trying to make me believe I even like you, stop trying to always win an argument with some snarky comment!" He shakes his head. "It doesn't work that way. Besides, we're so incompatible."

"Opposites attract, Harry, that's what makes us such a hot couple." I may sound a bit haughty, but I've got to say it anyhow. "It's how I do things, make cheesy, witty remarks to leave you speechless. What, you think it doesn't hurt to see you with someone else? I may not care, but I certainly do have feelings," I finish. He keeps silent, which is a cue for more words. "I believe that you've got a heart of gold, Harry, but you're not showing it."

He blushes. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I mean, I don't lo---

_Don't say that, _the voice in my head interrupts. _You'll never know._

I suddenly let out a very exasperated sigh.

Potter has a look on his face that I can't describe. He just looks very, very good. "Malfoy, it's really no use. I'm not like that. You know it."

"I don't know it! You know what I think? I think on the inside, you're so incredibly gay, that your crookedness twists your sexuality into so many loops it almost makes you straight! What do you call what happened in the corridor? The dungeon?" He shakes his head again. _Stop pissing me off!_ "Stop pissing me off like this!"

I grab my wand, tap it on the surface of the mirror and say, "Nox." The image of him disappears. I figured out how to use the mirror a few days ago in the library, and I suppose this 'in relation to light' thing is quite useful. Especially for moments like these.

_You really make me miserable, you know that?_

I stare at the ceiling. Looks like if there's commotion or not, I still won't be getting any sleep tonight.


	37. Ron: Coping

by Perr  
  
Ron's POV

He's distracted again; he's _always_ distracted. Ok, that's alright, but Harry's always _silently _distracted _by himself_ nowadays, because it's usually me distracting him with noise, or with notes, or a fantastic piece of news to do with Quidditch. Even Mione seems like she wants me to grab his attention. She suggested a knife if speech didn't work.

She elbows me in the ribs and nods towards Harry.

"Hey, you alright?" I ask him in response to that. He shifts and replies with a 'yes', then resumes his stoning daze, looking bored as ever. Well, at least he looks bored instead of dead.

I wonder when's dinner.

* * *

I went to pick up some books for Hermione; they're awfully heavy. I decide to leave them on her bed and head for Harry's dorm room because she wants to 'have a chat' with him. Pssh! Last time she told me that, she screamed at me and sent me a howler the next morning. I only cut a bit of Crookshank's tail off. I mean, I already did her a favour by giving him a haircut. Women. Never satisfied or grateful.

When I turn the knob of the door open, I overhear Hermione talking about Dumbledore's surprise. I don't think I like surprises anymore, after all the surprises I've had these years. Dumbledore hasn't said a word about it in ages since that day when he made his announcement.

I sound my arrival. "Ronald Weasley is here."

Before I know it, we're talking about Malfoy. What's the bloody deal about him? I've heard about his bedding skills, and other unmentionables that I simply don't want to know but know them anyway. Harry being hung up about the arse is definitely not a normal situation at all. Mione exits the room angrily after she feels annoyed at his secret keeping. I never even got the chance to rub her back for her.

_So, what's with you, Harry?_

"Will it help if I told you that I got my second kiss?"

"You kissed someone?" I tilt my head in interest and look at him. "Who?" _Way to go Harry. Alexis? ...But she can't be bothering you so much!_

He says it's an accident. Yeah, you tripped and you fell on someone's lips.

"Remember that pair of two-way mirrors I bought a few months ago? Well, I gave one to Malfoy."

_You what?!_

"You what?!"

He looks very stressed about this. I'm sure the furrows have appeared in my forehead already, and I don't like where this is going. It's about Malfoy AGAIN! I mean, what's he going to tell me, that he's in love with that sadistic annoying nut? Oh, suddenly dinner doesn't seem like a good idea. Too much info.

"We agreed on a truce and things have gotten a little more complicated, since. Like... He was the one who kissed me."

He kissed you? _You kissed him? What? ...What?_

"Ron, the thing is, I think I'm bisexual." He looks at his feet poking up from under the blanket.

_You're what?_

It's only when I feel the dryness in my mouth that I realise my jaw has been hanging for a long time. "Ron?"

"No!" I say, shaking my head.

"No what?"

"No, you don't like boys." I start to feel uncomfortable. And a bit sick. "You can't like boys."

"Why not?"

"Because I'M a boy!"

This is very disturbing. "Ron, that's insensitive and discriminating and surely not supportive for a best friend!"

And it's also a very normal reaction for a big ol' homophobe like me. "Why couldn't you choose me or someone else, then?" Did I say that?

"What? You _did not_ just say that."

"NO, no, no," I quickly reply. "I mean, of all people Malfoy?" You could've hit on Seamus or something. At least he's captain of the Quidditch team. After all, he doesn't look all that bad in the showers and---

YUCK! YUCK! ERRRGH! Save me, Mione, someone!

I take a lot of time to absorb everything. About his situation with Alexis (which is actually, a no-go on BGR terms), about Mione and I (thank goodness he's ok with that, I love her too much), about injuries and Malfoy. We shake on a promise not to tell Mione about any of this for now, because I'd definitely hate to experience more howlers, sitting next to Harry in the Great Hall, you know?

"So, are you still enemies?"

He looks at his covered feet. "I don't know. For now, I don't think so, because the truce is still intact."

"Harry, you sure you'd like to feel that way about Malfoy?"

He looks confused and upset at the same time, then he purses his lips very tightly and buries his face in his pillow to say loudly, "I KNOW YOU ALL HATE HIM, I HATE HIM TOO BUT I CAN'T HELP MY FUCKING SELF, AND HECK, IT WAS ONE KISS THAT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO MEAN ANYTHING AND---"

"OK!" I interrupt, slapping him on the leg. He yelps and sits up so his feet now touch the floor. "You're such a girl." He glares at the comment. "Ok, I promise I'll try to accept all the jumbo you've told me."

He laughs **at** me. "Gee, Ron, you know me so well."

"Yeah, I also know that I've got a stupid soft heart for best friends." I pause. "Oh hell, it's Malfoy, GROSS!" He punches me in the arm and we laugh.

My appetite is ok again.

* * *

After my stomach is temporarily filled, I start to notice that Harry is eating well, until we both realise Draco Malfoy is missing. I always thought he was always looking at Harry because he wanted to pick a fight, not because he was a queer. Ugh. This is making that pudding climb up my throat (which would be a waste if I puked, because it was actually really good). I mean, how can Harry even... fancy him? I hope he doesn't fancy him. I can't believe I didn't see it coming. Mione is going to freak if she finds out. I never knew all those notes they kept sending each other were something outside a rivalry. I think he should have better taste.

I look at Mione and she spots our friend wondering where Malfoy is. She's got great, soft curls in her hair today. It makes my fingers itch to touch them. Then again, she might smack me for laying my 'oily, chicken-smelling, after-dinner hands' on them. It's happened. Don't think I felt my face for a week.

"You don't have to worry. I took care of the matter."

You hit him again? Just as I am about to congratulate her, Harry's very scary "RRAGH" vibe passes through my skin.

"What do you mean 'you took care of the matter'?"

She says, "I know you refuse to tell me anything, but I kind of figured things out. Told him to stop doing whatever he was doing to you; told him to go away. The detested little..."

I know the next word is 'bastard' because she always calls Malfoy that 60 of the time, but she is cut off by a scary Harry (who is scary indeed) who snaps, "Hermione! This does not concern you!" and then he escapes the scene to search for the absent blonde.

"Err," I begin, directing speech to a fallen-faced girlfriend, "I guess he wanted to take care of him himself." I notice the various students curiously wondering about his words and intentions. _I suppose, _I sigh, _I've got to cover for him now._ "You know how much he hates the git, and he hates other people meddling in his personal life, and he'd rather much be doing it himself." _You owe me, Harry._ "I think I'll go after him.

"Ron!" Mione says.

"I'll see you later!"

Oh bugger. He could be anywhere.

* * *

I got some information from a passing Colin Creevey, who frighteningly exclaimed, "Harry Potter runs wild to the dungeons for mysterious rendezvous!", I had to then erase his memory of seeing Harry with a hex. Hopefully, my spell worked right.

I also bump into Blaise Zabini whom I've never really liked because he snoops around too much. Sometimes he pays Colin or other people to dish out the dirt on selected targets for sheer pleasure; his nature is pretty much typical Slytherin Sadist. As our shoulders knock, he narrows his eyes at me with a silent threat. The dungeons are just up ahead.

It's quiet outside. The doors are slightly open, and I don't hear anything except some movement. I decide to enter.

"Ay, Harry! I heard you were---"

My eyes catch a glimpse of what seemed to be a very, _very_ close encounter between Harry and Malfoy. I feel like plucking my eyes out and soaking them in cleansing solution.

_My eyes! My eyes! Blinded by the sight of best friend and worst enemy... together!_

"---down here..." I finish my sentence after that long, almost eternal moment of wondering if they were on to something has passed. "...What are you doing down here anyway?"

Harry's mouth almost twitches into a smile, while he scratches his head. Then sets his hands to his hips. I see Malfoy's eyes checking out his arse with two raised brows.

_MY EYES!_

"I think we'd better leave." Indeed, we'd better. I can't stand all this animal magnetism I feel in the room. Disgusting, I tell you. The Slytherin doesn't look very pleased.

"I was just about to." My white English pureblood arse you were about to. He seems like he doesn't want to leave, like he's anchored to the cement floor. Oh no you don't, Harry, you'd better follow me back to the dorms, I think, and like he reads my mind, he walks towards me with guilty stride and we take our leave.

"My god, Harry, what did you think you were doing?!" I say, once we're some distance away from the dungeon doors. "Wait, don't answer that. I don't think I want to know."

"I think I was saying sorry," he says anyway.

"With your lips? People don't say sorry with---" I stop. "That's not the point anyway."

"Ron, at least be glad you didn't see us kiss or something more, like---"

"Nonono, Harry, my eyeballs are already diseased, I don't want my ears to fall off too."

He punches me hard in the arm. "Ow!" I shout. He makes a face. "That's for being a real big shit on the party."

"Party in your pants." I can't believe I said that.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He hits me this time. "Oi! That's for being a good friend."

"Harry, sarcasm doesn't work very well with you."

"...I wasn't being sarcastic."

I am quiet for the rest of the time back, mostly with a smile on my face. Hermione would be proud. If only she knew.

"But you know, even if he's still a terrible seeker, Malfoy still is a good ki---"

I drag my feet all the way back after that. "Harry..."


	38. Draco: Kiss

by a very tired Perr

_A kiss is not just a kiss,  
and not all kisses are the same._  
  
Draco's POV

I'm angry. How dare he tell me that I'm beneath him, that I should stop trying to come out on top. Then again, I'm pretty satisfied that the glow of his eyes gets a little greener when I'm around girls, or around the special male individuals I speak to.

His reasoning with me yesterday over the mirror was to no avail. He was trying to prove to me something, but all the proof he had was flushed cheeks and meagre words. He keeps denying himself of truth, and that pisses me off.

Maybe it's just my reaction to losing this game. I almost want to give up.

Potter is wandering after dinner. He's alone, in no rush, black hair windswept, and cloak billowing in early winter wind. Passers-by look on curiously as I approach him. I hope to go unnoticed (which would appear way cooler if I surprised him), but he spots me at the corner of his eye.

I don't realise it at first but he's looking at the moon, thoughtful, calm and serene. I'm _almost _sorry for interrupting, but I speak anyway.

"You don't even know what you're thinking Potter, hanging around people you hardly want, people you hardly need."

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

_Are you so fucking oblivious to everything, Harry? _No matter how loud my heart screams in my ear, I reply, "I want you to wake up and stop lying to yourself, trying to tell me anything in your confused state." _I'm so confused myself._

"What do you mean?"

"Don't try to act like a fool, Potter, you bloody well know what I'm saying." He has this clueless look plastered on his face, and yet, he may still know exactly what I mean. "You've got to stop this."

"Jealous, Malfoy?" he retorts unexpectedly.

_Jealous? Pfft, yeah, I'm bloody envious of that tramp you hang around every now and then. _"Aren't you yourself?"

"Of what? Pansy Parkinson?" he scoffs, "Puh-lease!"

"Or are you, really?" I end off with a serious narrowing of my eyes. He can't meet his with mine. After a pause, I walk away from him, leaving him in a turbulence of his own.

If he were a Rubik Cube, I'd take forever to solve him.

* * *

I'm at Gryffindor quidditch practice. I wasn't done with him in that walkway and I don't think I'll ever be done with him as long as I exist. Well, no one's really done with Harry Potter until he's died, or _you've _died. Unfortunately, the latter seems to be a little more believable.

He's flying around on his little twig, as players one by one leaves for rest. He should be at least a little grateful that I'm waiting for him, which is approximately...

One hour and forty seven minutes later when Weasley finally touches down.

We're finally alone. Him in the sky, me picking at weeds.

Potter lands and sighs. _Still haven't noticed me, have you? _He heads off to the direction of the showers and I follow. I shove my hands into my pockets.

The mirror reminds me of the foolish boy's words. How stupid can he get? I mean, he hasn't even bothered with an apology. I think twice about keeping it by my side while I take hastened footsteps to the changing rooms.

It smells completely of male testosterone, because well, it's the _male_ changing room that I'm in. Utterly disgusting and disgraceful, how this place is. I'm ashamed that I contribute to this mess. I look around for him.

"What are you doing in here?"

My head snaps to the left. "You know why I'm here."  
He takes off his gloves and drops them onto the bench. "Enlighten me."

"You're scared, for starters. You're scared of what everyone will think of you when they find out that you can't help but make googly eyes at me." _Those eyes burn deep into my skin, you know that?_

"Rubbish, Malfoy. That's all you're good at." He drops to one knee to undo his boots, pulling at the laces with slight force to show his displeasure. "I'm never afraid, and I will mix with people whom I see fit."

Pssh! I fold my arms. "What bold claims you make, Potter. No wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor, unintelligent, unwitty and a little too sure of yourself."

He proceeds with his other boot. "What's your point, Draco?" He defers from topic, because he knows I'm winning the argument.

"I'm not going to take any more of you 'I'm not the least bit attracted to you' shit, so I'll be returning a little something to you," I bite, frowning. That's going to be a very devastating wrinkle to my forehead.

He glares at me, while his lips are pursed in a thin line. It seems that the words just went in one ear and out the other. He grasps my attention when he slips into a cubicle and unbuttons his robe.

It's one of those moments that possess you for mere minutes; in this case, before the door shuts, my hand throws itself forward to stop it from closing.

"You can't shut me out."

One of his fists is clenched tightly, knuckles on the way to white. Just when I think he's going to slug me one right in the face, there is a stall in time where the pressure pops.

_Pop._

The hand on the door moves to the side of his neck, up to the back of his head to pull him into our second kiss. Heavy shock rides from the base of my spine to the tips of every part of my body, as his lips meet with mine, wanting, almost desperate. I can feel the heat come off myself in waves, tension slowly oozing out of my pores through so much _heat..._

Potter's kisses are the hungry sort, he knows his kissing games well. His breaths fall short and heavy, he flushes and looks like he's about to melt into the ground. He's butter under my fingers. Everyone's butter under my fingers.

His hands reach into my cloak, pulling the shirt out from my pants and moving to the front to undo the belt, while I'm doing my own work, exhaling hotly into his ear in a soft, deep moan...

Our lips meet again, and his hands –those hands- urgently pulling at my belt and the buttons, palm pressing onto the discomfort he's caused me...

"Mmnf," I try to speak in the midst of this.

Remember what I said about possessing moments? This is something like it, but I've got all sorts of reason to back up my change of heart. Even the homosexual devil inside screams stop, because this isn't how it's supposed to go. I don't want anybody to fuck anyone just because of pressure, just because my words convince someone for six bloody minutes that they're batty about me. Shit, if I want to fuck him, I want him to be fucking me back, when it finally happens.

_Did I just say that?_

I pull away from him completely, out of the touch of his hands and the soft of his mouth, far enough for thick air to separate us like the Red Sea. The worst part of this is to feel all the tension that had been released being sucked right back into my body in the form of an embarrassing heat in my pants.

Potter's green eyes deepen and look into mine, magical sparkle dissolving into the confusion he's always been in. Any longer of eye contact and I would have to kiss him again, so I drop my eyes to my shoes.

My hand reaches into my pocket. I didn't come here for nothing. Not that I expected a lot of this lip locking, but I did say that I wanted to return him something.

"Here," I say, and press the mirror into his palm. "No more of this. If you want to speak to me, do it to my face, not through some glass toy of yours. And don't talk to me about you not being the slightest bit interested in me."

A noise of disbelief escapes from his throat. I break out into a smile and shake my head.

_I'm the crazy one here._

I plant a kiss to his scar and leave. My footsteps stop the silence from turning us both deaf. Well, my heartbeat does for me, at least.

_Oh God,_ I think in the outside air, not caring about my loosened pants and now-sloppy attire. I pull my cloak tighter around me. _Everything in there did not happen._

My eyes are fixed on the castle. If Slytherins know, they'll skin me! They'll tear the flesh from my bones and burn my body if they found out about this. Anything to do with this. Anything to do with my feelings for Potter.

Since when did I have feelings?

**_Nobody had better find out._**

A figure darts from behind one of the pillars, familiar green and white. Blaise Zabini flees from his hiding place.  
_Shit._


	39. Harry: As Opposed to You

by Jas

Harry's POV

I should think the Boy's Dorm would be empty now, which is all the better. It started snowing a week ago. I like this part of the year best, when almost everything outside is white; the trees laced with snow, and the lake frozen. It's really beautiful. Except that it gets really cold whenever you play Quidditch. _Who plays Quidditch during winter? _We do. Well, that is, unless there's a blizzard. And it's crazy. I always return to the Tower with a numb nose, numb fingers, and possibly a brain-freeze.

On reaching the top stair to the Dorm, I realise that I won't be going anywhere for the Christmas break. I'll be here in Hogwarts, as always. But hey, Hogwarts was much more a home to me than Privet Drive ever was. I wonder if my friends will be going away. They've only both gone away once, that was last year. I'll just have to wait and see.

I was right, the Room was empty. How can I be wrong about it anyway, after staying here for so long. So what shall I do now with my free time? I guess I could revise Potions or something. Hermione would be so proud. I chuckle. _Fat chance_. I think I'll write a letter... to Malfoy.

I sit with my back against the wall, knees bent and feet on the bed, trying to write in this sitting position. Deciding to write a letter was the easy part, because I realise that I don't know what to write. There's nothing much to tell him, or, nothing at all. After that little "conversation" on the mirror, I know now that he doesn't care much about things. I guess I can only write _Hi Malfoy, I'm bisexual now, how 'bout we meet up later._ That he'll bother. I'm quite sure of it. But I'm not writing that.

I close my eyes and prop my forehead on my knees, thinking a little. But it's not much use. Only past conversations with the boy start playing in my head. Everything's just, so bittersweet, as what Hermione might say. I apologized to her for running off like that the other day. She knows I haven't told her everything. Still think she hasn't fully forgiven me yet, but at least she's talking to me. It's very scary how things change so quickly. I start to wonder what had started it all. A sudden _Hey, Harry_ interrupts this.

I jump a bit. A figure of a girl is at the door. It's Alexis. It's unfair that girls can come into our Dorm anytime they please, there's just no privacy. Or maybe I should just close the door next time.

"Hey, come in." I'm under the impression she's here because she's bored.

"Are you busy?" she says as she spies the quill and parchment; she sits at my feet.

"Oh, no... no matter. So, what's up?" She looks relieved. I put the things away quickly.

"I'm just taking a little break from the homework. Don't exactly understand Arithmancy."

"That's Hermione's subject. Why don't you get her to help you? She'll help anyone, but she's a little busy these days." People actually think we're together. I mean, she's not exactly my type. Especially my closer friends, they should have known.

"She _is_ helping me."

"Ok, that's good. She's doing a good job of it, I should think." She nods. This is a bit awkward.

We talk for a little while more. Just when I think she's leaving, she says, "Have you seen Ginny?"

I stop for a second or two, pondering over that. What kind of question was that? She should know where Ginny is; I thought I saw her in the Common Room too. "Um, no, I don't know where..."

She moves a little closer to me, then _very close_. I realise that I'm not in a very good position. Before I can ask her "What're you doing?" I feel and see nothing except her pressed against me.

_You stole that!_ I wanted to shout, to stop everything. But I kiss her back instead, which according to normal circumstances, was not supposed to happen. I'm not very used to these sort of situations.

I can feel her hands on my back, then at the back of my head; while mine were holding her so that we don't fall down the side of the bed. I feel hot despite the weather. I don't know what's happening anymore. _If someone walks in... if _anyone_ walks in..._

I try pulling away but realise I cannot because she's on top. I push her off a bit, and struggle to say _stop_. I manage to sit up and readjust my glasses, taking in sharp breaths. She sits up too, looking confused and absolutely embarrassed. "I have to..." I begin, but didn't complete, as I dart out of the room. _I have to go for Quidditch_, which is the truth.

I start walking, and running, down the stairs and along the corridors very quickly, looking at the ground all the time, panting again after awhile. I literally bumped into some people in my haste. _It was the hormones, I tell you_._ Her hormones, and my hormones..._ I'd better stop before it sounds like we had sex, which we did not. It's still rather hot. I bet my hair's messier than it already is. Not like I care, much.

I slowed down my pace when I get out from the Tower. I don't know... I just need to get away. Walking slower now to cool down, I notice that there isn't any one in the corridors, even though some footsteps can still be heard.

A certain, lone blond appears at the opposite end of the hallway. The hallway isn't very long so I can see his face quite clearly from here. I stop walking. He doesn't. _Right, being unable to control an attraction doesn't mean I have to talk to him._

There are footsteps behind me, and it's getting louder. A figure runs past me, and straight towards Malfoy, who pauses. It's Pansy Parkinson.

She wraps her arms round his, and utters something I can't hear. Trying hard not to laugh, I raise my eyebrow at him. He throws me a dirty look. Now I really want to laugh. He looked really cute doing that. The whole atmosphere was different from that of dinner table business. I push my hands in my pockets and start walking slowly, keeping the eye contact with him the whole time, until we stood almost abreast. Pansy's still clinging on to him.

Slowing down deliberately, I decide to say, "You can't fool me." _You can drop the act now, I know._ But decide not to say that. Pansy shoots me a death glare. Ooh, scary.

I continue walking away, and I hear Pansy saying, "What, Draco? What did he just say?" He doesn't reply, or at least I can't hear it. Not everyday you hear Draco Malfoy get shit from a girl, besides Prof. McGonagall. Heck it, I'd bet he's probably not even listening.


	40. Draco: Books

by Perr - sore throat equals no muse. :(  
  
Draco's POV

By Thursday, every girl I've passed has given me a look, and every male I've crossed paths with has looked away wearily. I dearly pray that Blaise doesn't yap anything about whatever tryst I have with Potter, because I'd be in shit if he did. I'm sure when that happens, everyone's going to forget that I'd ever slept with girls.

I find out what the word really is when Goyle approaches me.

He says, "Are you ok?"

I reply, "Yes. Why?"

And he says, "Cuz Blaise told us you had a situation with someone."

"Who?"

Then he says, "I don't know. I thought that maybe you got beaten up or something. He said you looked disheveled and a lil' worn out."

So I say, "I dropped by for some quidditch."

"With the Gryffindors?"

I take awhile to reply. "Well, you know, after they were all done, I couldn't resist. You know that I'd love to beat those prats one day."

"Yeah, I wanna do that too," he agrees, but he seems unsure about the rest of what I've said. "Don't you think you've become a little obsessed with quidditch?"

I shrug. "It's relaxing."

"I don't think it'll be all that relaxing anymore," he says. "I heard that Marcus Flint wanted to come back and coach us, because he thought our team was getting sloppy."

I'm feeling slightly cornered, and I don't feel like talking to anyone anymore. "Look, Goyle... I think it's best that you not believe what the gossip presents. In the meantime, I think I'll get to class early." Textbook in hand, I take my leave.

* * *

"Hello."

I look up from my desk. It's Pansy. There is so much indifference inside myself, I could cry. The sex was a mistake; it's never made us any closer, it just seemed like it. Anything that I've ever liked about her seems distant as my reach for the sky. I suppose I did like her once. But now, I'm hoping that she's not actually in full-blown love with me, because I'm terrified of her.

I was never one for such deep sentiment.

Which forces me to think about Harry, because what I feel about him frightens me so much.

Parkinson sits beside me. I look around. "Where's Crabbe?

"We switched seats. Only for today." I breathe a sigh of relief. "I heard Blaise saying how you were snooping around looking for fun."

"Fun? No fun!"

Which is the case because everything about he and I is absolutely un-bloody-fun. It's far from fun. It's like when you're a girl in ancient China and you've got to break and bind your feet so you'd fit into society. It's one of the things that you **have to **do, and I don't have a choice with what my heart gives me. There's no fun in that!

"Which girl would you go for, Draco, if we broke up?"

"I wouldn't."

She narrows her eyes and raises her brow for a second. I realize that she might have deciphered my code. "It won't be someone outside our house, will it?"

"No, no."

We remain silent for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

When it's actually finished, she tugs on my sleeve. "Draco, you know, I think we're special."

_Yeah, we're special as the many meanings of it can stretch._ "We're ok." I scratch my neck and remember his touch. Sighing to the memory catches her attention.

"You're not telling me something," she says. I seriously don't care, and I look for my friends. Midway, I bump into Weasley, who passes me a half-grimace, half-suspicious look. Everyone seems to know a little something about me now, especially him. I hope Potter hasn't cries oceans to him about how sharp my words were. "Hello, Draco, I was talking to you."

"Sorry," I tell her. "I'm really not in the mood for conversation." At the corner of my eye, I spot Blaise weaving in and out of the crowd. He's following me, I'm sure of it. He needs to get a life. I don't even know what he wants with me. What does he get out of it?

"But you're just hearing me talk, so that doesn't count as a conversation exactly." I continue my footsteps, but she stands in front of me to stop my progress. "Let's get married."

"What?!"

"I'm serious, let's get married!"

"No, Pansy, no!" I say, flailing my arms. People leave a meter-long radius around us. "We're _not_ getting married!"

"But I don't want to lose you."

I pinch the bridge of my nose and think, _I'd definitely like to lose you._

"Look, if you'd trust me enough, we'd have something to look forward to. Pansy, leave me alone on this for once," and I walk off quickly before she can add anything. I head to the library.

* * *

I choose to be accompanied by a big book. It's about a man and a woman. The pictures in it move, and because I am bored, it fascinates me somewhat. I sit and lean against the shelf I've just taken it from, skimming words that tell of an inevitable war between the two people and the sides that they fight for. It's quite entertaining.

As I read on, I realise that the story seems somewhat familiar. Have I read this before? The title is _Cold War/Love_, and I don't believe that I've ever come across it in my entire life.

"Hello."

This greeting is more comforting, more familiar. "Potter, nice of you to join me." I pat the space beside myself. "Sit your lard ass down." He does so with a smile. How... Unusual, after all that's happened between he and I. I'm surprised we are still this casual about things.

Potter sees the book in my lap, and tips one side of the book to the right to inspect the cover. "_Cold War/Love, _hmm?" He nods his head. "Hermione made me read that once. Quite gory, some pictures behind." He pauses. "Story about love and hate and blood altogether can be quite moving, you know."

_Yes, I do think I recognize this story now._

Harry sits closer to me. I don't move away, because it feels quite nice to be next to him. Warm.

"I guess, _Potter,_" I practically spit his name out, "we should take a story slowly."

He leans back and looks at a spot between bookcases, in deep thought. "Is that how you like things? Nice and slow?"

_Oh my._ I blush. Very, very deeply, and I can feel it coming off myself in waves. This is a pleasant, welcoming change. He isn't focused on me, so he doesn't notice it. Yet. I'm not used to things like that coming out of his mouth. Thinking of his mouth makes me shiver. Gods.

"No," I say, making him raise a brow, then continue nervously, "I just like to savor what I've read and enjoy whatever feelings that follow."

"Hmm," he says, then his head turns to see my cheeks red as beet. Both eyebrows are now raised. I make a mistake by using my fingers to try and rub them down in circles.

"Don't do that," Potter puts his hands on mine to stop me. "You look... pretty."

"I do not look pretty!" I respond incredulously. "I am a sex bomb. A bloody good looking sod---"

"Malfoy, this is a library..."

"---A damn excellent---"His fingers push against my lips, which makes my shoulders slump in defeat. To top that off, something close to a whimper escapes my throat. _I do not whimper!_

Then he presses his lips to mine, and takes away his fingers. I exhale deeply through my nose. If I can tell my body right, I may be literally melting into the ground.

A voice of the domineering kind shouts in my head, _You are the mastermind, Draco! You are the controller!_

But he starts to kiss me again, and again, and again, coaxing my mouth open until the soft of his tongue meets mine, burning away all my other senses while our hands are entwined.

I'm breathing very hard when we separate. What the hell is wrong with me? I keep making these high, brief noises whether we touch or not. "We are not having sex in the library," he says.

Which to me, is an equivalent to, _We are having sex everywhere else._

However, this actually translates to, _We are not having sex at all,_ when he stands up and straightens his pants. I would like to get into those, yessiree Bob. This makes me stand too, which in turn makes me a slightly grumpier because I'd rather remain on the floor like an embarrassing puddle of goo. "Where do you think you're going?"

He pulls at my belt and our mouths collide one last time. "Away from you."

He holds my face in his hands for a while longer and they feel very cool. Then he disappears. Like how I normally do.

Hey. That's my signature!

Standing with a book in hand, I think of something quite strange, as I try to normal my breathing rate. I think of Harry being king and I as the jester in the game we're going at. King Harry and Draco in tights. I have come to realise that this whole thing is backfiring on me.

I slip the gray hardcover of _Cold War/Love_ inbetween two books and plan to borrow it another day. Bloody hell! This is not good.


	41. Draco: Hospital Wings

Draco's POV

Lessons are getting stupider. Especially Transfigurations. When the Professor said vanishing invertebrates, I thought maybe we'd try earthworms or something like that. But no, a jellyfish lies on my table. I have no fear of jellyfish, but it's disgusting!

"Remember to keep away from the stingers and the tentacles," McGonagall warns.

Crabbe pokes the soft head of his specimen with the tip of his wand repeatedly. It makes a squishy-squelch sound (which I truly abhor), so I hit him and tell him to stop it.

"Abra Cadabra!" Weasley shouts, and the entire class stares at him. "What? It's worth a try."

Potter is beside him. He's shaking his legs that are tucked behind his chair and he boredly uses his finger to poke at the slimy, floppy head. Doesn't he know that's dangerous?

Since when do I care?

That Weasel accidentally knocks the elbow of Potter and his hand touches a stinger. "Ow!" he shouts really loudly, jumping in his seat. His knee knocks the bottom of the desk and the stingers that dangle from the edge brush against his lap. "Grahh!" he shouts.

Instantly, I want to rise and comfort him but a millisecond later I yell a big, "AHH!" of my own. A hot rush of fire whips up my back to my neck, and immediately I hear apologies from Goyle.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry Draco, I was shocked and I flicked my wand and a stinger hit you and---"

"Goyle!" I shout, fingers reaching my neck.

Professor McGonagall tells us to calm down and orders the trouble making redhead and Pansy to get us to the infirmary. Yeah, easier said than done. How about I shove a big fat stinger up your ass, heartless bitch. Bloody hell, it really hurts. Pansy takes my arm and we leave the class.

Harry clenches his jaw whilst I clench my fist and together we hiss at the pain. Pansy strokes my arm, which is surprisingly comforting and Potter's best mate bounces on the infirmary bed with a heavy landing.

"It'll be ok, Draco," she reassures. I thank her. But not without reaffirming that it doesn't hurt that much, which is a complete lie.

Madam Pomfrey asks, "Now, what's the matter with you two again, a fight?"

The Gryffindor prefect stands and simply tells her it's Pink Totem Jellyfish stings.

"Oh, really?" she says. "Oh my, never had that before." She thinks for a bit. "Why don't you two prefects head back to class, and I'll think of something." Pansy rolls her eyes at the obvious fact that she has to walk with Ron Weasley. They leave the ward and keep a distance of a metre from each other. Wouldn't it be awkward for the two of them to be together? I chuckle once and the pain eats at my skin again.

"I don't know what'll cure the injury yet, but I know that I can help you ease the pain a bit. You boys rest up while I do a bit of reading." She waves her wand and about five strips of bandage-like things slip out from a drawer far away and fly to her open palm. She peels off a paper layer from one side of a strip and says to me, "I'll start with you first. Now, take off your cloak and your vest and your shirt."

"My shirt?"

My shirt?

"Of course! How will I put this on your back if you don't take it off? Come on, you're both boys, nothing to be shy about."

But this is Potter! I have dignity to keep. Taking my shirt off is like giving him a free show! I mean, I know I want to shag him silly (which definitely requires the stripping of clothes), but this is bloody unfair. It's so bloody weird, with this Pomfrey standing about.

I cast a sidelong glance at him. A very proud feeling overcomes me when he tries not to look but can't help himself and he can't blink for a second. So I take off my cloak, pull my vest over my head, undo that ridiculous tie that the school makes us wear, and unbutton my shirt. I realise that it's very difficult to make it a nice show of things, and I keep a straight posture, because it will hurt if I don't. My back is so stiff. My hands unconsciously rub my thighs.

My composure is ruined when she slaps the piece on my wound and pushes the rest down my back in a fast, hard motion. Shit, that stings! I frown, but relax after I feel menthol spreading outwards from my spine. It still feels awkward, shirtless in an infirmary next to your almost-lover. I lean back against a pillow and inspect my own body.

Hey, Draco Malfoy is still a total package, and I sense that Harry Potter wants to get his hands on MY package, I'm sure of it. Because I want my hands on his package too.

When the nurse says, "It's your turn, Harry," I realise that everything is fair after all.

"You have to take off your pants."

We both say, "What?!" at the same time. _Oops._

Well, close your eyes if you're so particular, then."

"No, no, we're all boys anyway." I can't help but grin.

He stands from the bed and unbuckles his belt uneasily, but quickly. He glances at me and with my megawatt beam, I wink. _Whoosh,_ he blushes, and something twitches in my groin. Potter sits back down once his pants hit the floor.

_My, my, Potter._

All I can say is that I do like his very toned thighs.

Something tugs at my heart when I see the red welts and sores on his inner thigh. That's something to cuss about. It looks like he's been lashed with a whip. Whip: that's an idea. But appealing as the whole BDSM kink goes, it fades when he turns his face away and Madam Pomfrey sticks it on his skin, both thigh and hand. The shocking emotion of me wanting to comfort him is truly disturbing.

"That stings like a bitch!" he says. It's the first time I've heard him use that word.

"Mind your language, boy."

I observe. He must feel really awkward too, having not taken his cloak off, sitting in his underwear. It's funny. And it's quite sexy of him. It's excellent blackmail material, if I could take a picture. At least I'm the only one (and Madam Pomfrey) to see him in such an exquisite, embarrassed state.

Just when the thought crosses my mind, I start to feel sleepy. Before I know it, Potter is the last thing I see before I lapse into sweet oblivion.

Perfect.

* * *

When I wake up, Potter is already awake. I've appeared to have slipping down into a lying position, so I prop myself back up again. It's already dark and well into the evening. Dinner, perhaps. There are signs of a lot of life from far away. 

"You ok?" Potter asks.

"I'm ok." I don't ask about him. "Not that bad anymore. At least we missed lessons."

He nods. "Charms, then Potions. Glad to miss them."

Comfortable pause. I feel very comfortable when we're alone. With no one around. Just the two of us.

Haha.

"Nice legs, by the way," I say.

"You're not s'bad yourself," he replies.

Long pause. "…Gods, Potter, kiss me already."

I throw the blanket over the rail and get out of bed. "Malfoy, you're nuts," he says with a smile. "Batty."

"Very, very horny."

"Wait, I want to talk about something." He raises his hand to stop me. I sit on his bed. It has no rails.

You want to talk?!

"I'm new to this… This gay thing." He looks at his glasses on a table separating our beds. "I'm not happy about what you told me the other day. And I do believe that it's going to take some time to get used to you."

"Are you saying you're taking me in?"

"Let me finish, will you, bloody prat? I'm going to say that I do like girls and have this terrible attraction to you only. And I don't know why… So I suggest we keep our distance."

"And stay away from you? Keep our distance? Don't you ever realise that our bodies belong together? You really piss me off, you know. You always tell me things like, 'I'm not gay, I'm not gay'. You're a bloody queer, ok? Get a grip, pillock."

He gets very mad and defensive. "It's not that simple!"

"Feelings are complicated. I don't have feelings. I have desires. There's so much of it for you, and I can't stand it."

As we talk, our faces get closer. And as our faces get closer, we stop talking and lean in for a kiss.

Bang. The doors swing open. "Oh DAMN, why do I ALWAYS catch you two snogging?"

Weasel again. I sigh, and drop my head. "We didn't kiss, you dumbarse, because you interrupted," I respond grumpily. Then I realise something. He knows about Potter and I? "You know about us?"

He ignores me. Harry nods. Pomfrey comes in. "Alright! I know the cure."

Ron says, "I need to go to the bathroom first. We'll talk about some quidditch problems later."

"Oh!" the nurse exclaims. "Do me a favour, will you dear?" Then she whispers a few things in his ear. His eyes widen first, then reluctantly, he nods. My ward mate and I look at each other.

A few minutes later, Weasley returns. Madam Pomfrey prepares a few things for us, then later removes the strips from our wounds (quite painfully).

"Harry, someone new came into the team, not our team, and he's not really new. Actually, he's really a veteran." Then they start whispering which makes me annoyed.

Pomfrey drizzles something down my back. It feels like my wounds have reopened and there's a faint, familiar smell. She does the same to Harry. Weasel is looking very suspicious.

"Alright, we're done! You should be ok in a few hours."

"What is that?" I ask. Potter has stopped his discussion. He blinks at me a few times. It sends a shiver down my healing spine. He licks his lips. I almost groan.

"Pink Totem Jellyfish stings are alkaline in nature, I read. It's rather scientific. You need something acidic to counteract the effects." Ron squeezes his eyes shut. "So I asked your friend to help me when he went to the bathroom."

A look of sheer horror passes Harry's face.

**What?** She just poured Ron Weasley's piss down my neck?

Fucking disgusting! I decide to take at least 26 cold showers tonight. 26 because it should be enough to clear traces of him on my body, and cold because I keep thinking about Potter in his checkered boxers. It's going to keep me from sleep all night.

I never, ever touch myself because I prefer to leave the relieving to the person himself. It's like a personal triumph thing. Relief will be soon enough, I hope. It'd better be soon, because it's getting very difficult not reach down and start fondling. _You drive me CRAZY!_

* * *

Dumbledore announces the inaugural 'difference days'. Never said what it's about or when it's going to happen, just that it's sometime after Christmas. He just says it's three days long, and it'll be a very interesting surprise. You know what will be really interesting? Me shagging Potter. I've been thinking about it so much last night. Gods, he's a real gem. 

In the meantime, my eyes scan for Potter. He's eating, but his eyes are fixed behind me. So are Greg's, so are Vince's, so are Pansy's. I turn around.

"Ay, Draco," Marcus Flint says. He makes space between Pansy and I. "Haven't seen you for awhile." He looks older, much. His teeth have improved somewhat. The former quidditch captain (who I used to have a posse with in the past until he graduated) throws his arm around me and gives the side of my arm a good rub. "Haven't seen you in a long, long time."

* * *

Note from Perr: Bad news. It may seem terribly inhuman of us to stop, but there's going to be one more chapter left that I wrote (Draco's POV) that I'm going to post up. Jas and I have decided to leave this story alone becuase 1)it breaches my beliefs, therefore I must stop, and 2)Jas just can't bring herself to write anymore. Even if I'm stepping out of the slashy part of fanfiction, I'll still be writing, just on other things. And fandom. Jasmine is still nuts about HPDM, I don't get why she isn't all that compelled to write.  
So, we're both truly sorry for pumping you all up (the anticipation was really appreciated!) then deflating you. It's been a real great time writing about Draco and his evil thoughts about Harry xD. Thanks to everyone that supported us!  
PS.I don't mind if someone else wants to continue it for me. But it's hard work!


End file.
